


The Secrets We Keep

by psikitty



Series: Secrets [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 93,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psikitty/pseuds/psikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Hawke needs Anders help. With Justice becoming more uncontrollable, Anders gives it to her anyway. They know each others secrets. Can they keep them, or will it be their undoing? AU after Act 2. </p>
<p>The main story is Anders/Fenris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

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"Wait... what?"

It was rare that Anders found himself at a loss for words, but here he was, gaping at Marian Hawke while his mind struggled to grasp what she was telling him.

Marian sighed and her gaze flickered to the fireplace roaring in her bedroom. She turned back to Anders a wry smile on her lips. "I can say it again, Anders. It won't be any different than it was the last three times I said it."

"I don't understand," he sputtered. "How did this-"

Marian laughed. "And here I thought _you_ were the healer out of the two of us. If you don't know how it happened, then maybe the circle left out more of your education than you let on." Her expression sobered and she clasped her hands in front of her, the sleeves of her emerald robes falling down to cover her wrists. "I'm pregnant. I need you to move in with me."

_What have you done, mage!_

Anders winced as Justice's voice rang out in his psyche. He really hated it when the spirit did that to him. It felt like someone had clanged a large bell-while he was wearing it-and the sound reverberated through his skull.

"I didn't _do_ anything!" he cried. He held up a hand as Marian opened her mouth. "Not you," he hissed.

Marian's mouth snapped closed as she watched Anders brows furrow. He looked looked like he was in pain as a grimace slipped over his face. She hated it when Justice and Anders fought. The look on the other mage's face and the way he held himself so stiffly, told a story of the physical and mental pain it took to fight with the spirit residing in him. It was times like this that she knew Anders lied when he said that he and Justice were one.

_When did you do this?_ Justice demanded. _You threaten our goal! She threatens it! Distractions will not be tolerated._

_Are you not with me every fucking second of every day?_ Anders shot back. _She's not even showing yet. When do you think I could have done this?_

Justice lashed back, spiking pain through Anders' mind. _Everything we have worked for. We have a deal, mage! I released you from the Templars threatening you. In turn you gave me a body. Together we have a goal. I will not be deterred from it on your whims._

Anders sucked in a breath. _We massacred those Templars. Do not bring it up to me again, Justice. If you were ever my friend, do not._

The sound of a throat clearing was like thunder in the room. Anders jerked and focused on Marian. He looked down at his hand and watched as thin, blue lines receded back into his skin. He licked suddenly dry lips. Justice was becoming more and more out of control. Each day it became harder to tamp the spirit down. Each day it became harder for Anders not to think that he had traded one form of slavery for another. What did that say about him? The circle, the wardens and now Justice. Fenris was more free than Anders was at this point, although Anders would never say that out loud.

He released a shuddering breath and looked up at Marian, flashing her a charming smile he didn't feel. "As flattering as this is, Hawke. You and I both know I'm not the father. So that begs the question..." He trailed off and raised an expectant eyebrow at her.

Anders was grateful when Marian didn't comment on his lack of control. She sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. He loved Marian for that. She always seemed to know when to ask questions and when to not. When she didn't answer right away, Anders strode across the room and knelt down on front of her. He clasped both of her hands in his, forcing her to look at him.

"You've always been there for me, Marian. You've always had my back." He reached out and tucked some of her short, black hair behind her ear. "Even after your mother died and Fenris said..." He couldn't finish the thought. He still heard the warrior snarling at Anders that this was the fate of all mages. "I'm muddling this up, aren't I?" he asked, eliciting a small laugh from her.

"You're doing fine, Anders," she whispered. "I've... I've done something very stupid and I'm afraid."

Anders feigned shock. "Stupid? Stupider than dueling the Arishok? Maker, Hawke! I can't possibly think of what could be more-"

"The father is a Templar!" she rushed out, her words running together.

Anders released her hands and stumbled back to sit on the carpet. His eyes were wide as he began to laugh. "Bravo, Hawke! You almost had me there. A Templar? You wouldn't do that. You're an apostate for Maker's sake. Champion or not, Meredith would never overlook the scandal. They would take you and your baby, they would..." His voice drifted off as tears began to slip down Hawke's cheeks.

"No, no, no, no. Hawke? Marian?" He scrambled to his knees and grasped her hands again. "Who was it?" He clutched her to him as she began to sob.

"I can't... I can't tell you that. He's a good man. He shouldn't be punished for this and I..." She turned her face into his neck, her tears soaking his skin.

Not force then. Anders felt a small part of the tension ease out. If one of those power-mad bastards had raped her, there would be no force on earth that could protect them from Anders and Vengeance. As it was he felt Justice trying to assert himself. Anders closed his eyes. _Not now. She doesn't need you now._

_She has willingly lain with one of them._ Justice cried. _She, a mage... That she would do such a thing!_

_She is human. I know you've never understood that. But just... not now._

Justice slipped away and Anders was grateful. He opened his eyes, giving a quick kiss to Marian's head. "Does he at least know?" Anders asked.

She shook her head, lifting it to look at him with puffy, red eyes. "No. He can never know. I realize I am asking a lot of you, but I need," she swallowed and drew back from him. "I need your help. I can't leave Kirkwall. My mother is buried here. My brother is in the Gallows. I have status here and money. I could give a child of mine a good life."

"Until your child showed the promise of magic," Anders said softly.

"Then I will deal with that when the time comes. I will prepare for it so if we need to run, it isn't penniless or directionless." Marian looked at him fiercely, showing Anders the face of the woman who became the Champion of Kirkwall.

Anders sighed and shook his head. "All right. All right, Marian. What would you have me do? You mentioned me moving in?"

Her eyes lit up. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but it was the only thing I could think of to do. If people thought _you_ were the father, another mage, I could buy myself some time. If the baby shows signs of magic, we can run then. But if the child doesn't-"

"Then you wouldn't need to leave." Anders blew out a breath. "Maker, Hawke. You're playing a deep game. With me..." He laughed mirthlessly "I'm a horrible player. I've never been good at intrigue. if it wasn't for the Warden-Commander, I would still be in the circle. If it wasn't for Justice, I would be dead. Varric and Aveline keep everyone off my back at the clinic. Do you see what I'm saying here?" He needed her to understand. He couldn't be relied on, not with something so important. She hadn't known him before Justice. The spirit had changed him in so many ways. But he was wavering. the more he thought about it, the more her plan seemed sound. The others in their little group already thought so little of him, if it would protect a child who couldn't help who its parents were, then Anders would take any criticism they would throw at him.

"You are one of the heads of the mage underground," Marian said, drawing him out his thoughts. "You're a circle trained mage and a Grey Warden. You have saved the lives of our friends on more than one occasion. You save lives daily at your clinic. Don't sell yourself short. You're one of the bravest people I know, Anders." She smiled an touched his cheek, her thumb rasping over the stubble there.

"I know you don't want to give _him_ anymore ammunition against you. I know how it hurts you. But what he says of you isn't true."

Anders froze, the air seizing in his lungs. She knows, he thought. Oh, Maker, she knows. "How did you find out?" he asked, the words torn from his lips.

Her smile turned sad. Thank the Maker it wasn't pity. Anders didn't know if he could have handled that. As it was, her eyes seemed to look into him, stripping him bare as she said out loud what Anders had only dared to admit to him in his deepest dreams.

"It wasn't easy to see. The way you look when he says the things he does..." She shook her head. "I figured it out a year ago. You're in love with Fenris."

Anders gave a small cry and jerked to his feet, stumbling away from her. "You can never tell him," he gritted out. "Never, Marian."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I would like to point out that Hawke is perceived a certain way by Fenris and Anders. In this story they put her a little bit on a pedestal for a while. As far as they are concerned, she can do no wrong. When I eventually go into more about how she became pregnant and the decision to keep it a secret the way she has, this illusion will be shattered for them and hopefully the readers.
> 
> Once again this is an AU so while I might be keeping some quests and story lines of the game, most of it will veer off.
> 
> Anders and Fenris will be taking the slow route as well. To go from hate to love is a long road.  
  
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Marian and Anders had talked over the details long into the night. More than once, Anders had wondered silently why he couldn't have fallen for her instead. They understood each other in a way that was rare for him.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Despite what Fenris thought, Anders understood all too clearly the life of a slave. The circle systemically stripped everything that made a mage an individual. They held the harrowing over the heads of the young, frightening them to toe the line. Some became so fearful, so indoctrinated in chantry lore, that they _asked_ to be made tranquil. None of them were ever armed when they went through their harrowing. They were thrown to the demonic wolves, left to transverse the fade without any real guidance. All the while, you knew that templars were hovering over your body, a greatsword at your neck ready to take your head if they had perceived you failed. A mage's training meant nothing in the fade. The lack of access to the right kind of knowledge, in-according the Chantry-the wrong kind of books hampered them. Some would rather be tranquil then go through it. They thought themselves weak and would rather a half life than none at all.

Death would be kinder. The tranquil were walking corpses. The dead who didn't know they were gone yet. To see a lover.. a friend become tranquil was a torture on its own. They weren't technically dead, so you couldn't mourn them. But they weren't living either. Everything that made a person, their very self, was stripped away. And once they were tranquil... well that was even more enraging. The Chantry couldn't just have them doing nothing for the rest of their lives. They were set to do things like enchanting and cleaning. It was menial work that made them money.

The mages that conformed, the ones that made themselves useful and were used as examples of circle taught, mage kind, were just as bad. They spent their lives doing as they were told. They fought when the Chantry wanted them to and mended the broken bones of the templars. Most of them knew no other life. They didn't know-or were too afraid to know-what living in freedom really meant. Afraid of the whispers in the fade and the Chantry's long reach, they lived half lives the same as any tranquil.

So yes, Anders knew what it was like to be a slave.

As Anders walked through Lowtown, hunched against the pouring rain, he berated himself. He had tried to explain it all to Fenris before, but the elf refused to listen. Not that Anders could truly blame him, even if Justice did. Fenris had lived the other extreme. The magisters of Tevinter were used in the circles as a boogeyman. They were what happened when magic was allowed to run unchecked in the world. They and their ilk had caused the first blight. They were what happened when mages were allowed to explore the full extent of their power as they attempted to set themselves up as the Maker himself.

Anders had to believe that there was a compromise between the two extremes. Freedom for the mages, with a series of checks and balances in place to prevent the corrupt from unleashing another hell on earth.

It was getting harder to keep to his convictions.

Justice didn't believe in compromise. There was no justice in it. To compromise was to admit defeat. Justice gave no quarter. He did not discuss terms. Justice was swift to act.

Justice did not understand humans.

He did not understand the mortal capacity for emotions. Love, lust, loss. They were foreign feelings to the spirit. A being like Justice was never meant to feel these things and Anders was corrupting him.

More often than not, the two of them fought for control. They vied for dominance of one body, playing tug of war with something that was never to be pulled in so many ways. In his darkest moments, Anders could admit he was losing the fight. The things that Justice demanded from him... They scared the mage. Justice was relentless, hounding Anders' dreams and whispering in his mind during his waking moments. Where once Anders would have moments of peace, now he knew almost none.

_I've done this to myself_ , he thought as he approached the Hanged Man. He knew that Marian saw it all. She missed nothing when it came to those she cared about. Last night as they had talked, she had gently broached the subject of Justice. Even after assuring her that they were fine, her worried eyes told him she didn't believe him.

But out of everyone she could have come to ask for help, she had chosen him. He was going to do everything in his power to be worthy of that trust. No child should be taken away from their mother. On this, he and Justice agreed.

Tonight was going to be the first test of her faith in him.

Anders pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and stood dripping in the doorway. He pulled his hair tie out and ran his fingers through the blonde locks, squeezing out the water before tying it back again. He slipped off his coat and shook the water from it, earning a glare from a man seated near the door. He was stalling and he knew it. This wasn't going to be pleasant, no matter Marian's assurances.

They had arranged for Anders to come late to their weekly game of Wicked Grace in Varric's room. It would give Marian time to gently tell everyone her condition. Then Anders was suppose to show up and they would announce his role as the father.

Easy peasy.

Anders strode across the bar's main floor and rolled his eyes. Marian had more faith in their friends than Anders did. At least when it came to something like this. Nevermind that it would mean that Marian could no longer take jobs anymore-not that she needed to-but Anders wasn't exactly everyone's favorite person.

Where Marian was.

As he approached Varric's room, ignoring as always the tacky floor of the Hanged Man making his boots stick, he realized how quiet it was. His fingers twitched towards the staff on his back as he carefully walked to the door. Regardless of what he and Marian planned tonight, there should be at least some sort of sound emanating from Varric's room. Isabela's laughter, Merrill's innocent questions, and Varric's voice, telling them all a story to make them laugh and not pay attention to the cards in their hands; all the things that were part of the normal flow of a night of Wicked Grace. The silence was unnerving.

As he reached the door, he hesitated, his eyes narrowing. Varric's room was too small for him to wield his staff with any efficiency. His right hand twitched again and an electrical charge began to flicker between his fingers. He touched the handle with his left hand and gently opened the door, his magic primed hand behind his back. Muscles tense, he pushed into the room.

The first thing he saw was the horrified faces of all of his friends turned towards him as they sat at Varric's table. The first thing he heard was Marian screaming his name. His brain processed all of this in a heartbeat, along with wondering where Fenris was.

He found out when the world exploded into chaos.

Anders slammed into a wall inside the room. His vision was swamped with forest green eyes narrowed in rage. He barely registered the flash of a blue glow before agony made him scream. His eyes rolled in his head and he clawed feebly at the arm that was buried wrist deep inside him. The spell on his hand winked out as he lost concentration.

_His hand is on my heart_ , Anders thought. _Oh, Maker. I can feel it. I can_ feel _it!_ He could feel the organ stuttering in panic and pain. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to breath.

Fenris leaned in as he held Anders against the wall with his hand on his heart. His breath ghosted over the mage's cheek as he hissed out, "I've told you before, mage, you can't control yourself." His fingers gave a little squeeze and Anders cried out in pain. "Did your demon tell you to do this to her? Or was this your idea?"

"St...stop..." Anders gasped out. But it was too late. His skin seemed to crack with an answering luminescence of its own and his eyes flashed with living lightening.

"I am no demon!" Justice cried.

Fenris bared his teeth at Justice. "I see a demon claims to be stand for justice." He threw his free hand behind him and gestured where Marian stood. "Where is the justice in what you have let happen!" He vaguely heard Marian talking to him franticly as he stared at mage whose life he held in his hand.

When Marian had told them her news, Fenris had known immediately who was responsible. An apostate from who-knows-where with nothing to his name. He knew it when Marian hedged in telling them who the father was. He knew it when she wouldn't look Fenris in the eye.

Marian had saved him. Or at least was trying to. Without her, he never would have known what having someone care about you was like. Who he was today, was because of her and her unflinching belief that Fenris was so much more than just a slave. She deserved someone who would take care of her as she took care of others. Someone who would be a lifemate and helpmate in the ways that she needed. Not a mage who ran from everything in his life.

He saw Anders' hands start to crackle with blue fire and he sneered at the demon. "Do you think you can kill me before I crush his heart?" Fenris asked. "I'll die knowing I saved Marian from grief when he runs from his responsibilities once again." He felt fingers weave into his hair and give a pull. He turned and snarled.

"Stop," Marian whispered, her fingers tangled into his hair. "If you do this, Fenris..."

"I'll take your hate," Fenris snapped.

"This will hurt me far more than anything you imagine Anders can do," she said. Her hand in his hair forced him to look at her. "I will lose two people I care about. She let go of his hair, her hand slipping gently out. She spoke to him slowly, like a wild animal and it shamed him that she of all people would have to do that.

He turned back to Anders. Justice had banked the fire on his hands when he saw they were at an impasse. "This isn't over, elf," Justice said.

"Someday I will save us all the trouble and put your pet mage down," Fenris told him as he pulled his hand free of Anders, letting him slip to the floor. He took a step back, moving away from Anders as if he was something best avoided in the gutters of Darktown.

"I'll be watching you, mage," he warned Anders.

Anders couldn't stop shaking. He had never felt pain like that before. The crawling feeling of having someone's _hand_ inside you like that... When Justice had taken over, Anders had known blessed relief as he had slid gratefully into the darkness. He coughed and shuddered. "This will be different from any other time you watch me, then?" He couldn't look at Fenris. The elf had almost killed him. Anders had always known that Fenris was capable of it, but to finally experience it.

_Now do you see why your infatuation is so foolish? He will never see you as anything more than a dog that needs to be put down._

Anders wished he could blame that thought on Justice, but it was all his own. There was something poetic about Fenris having Anders' heart in his hand, but right now, Anders couldn't summon up energy to make the joke, even to himself.

_Less poetic, more pitiful,_ he thought. _Ah, there I go, joke made._

He pushed himself to his feet and finally looked up. No one made a move to help him and Fenris took another step back, his lips curled in disgust.

_We are the same!_ Anders wanted to yell at the elf. Both of them were so damaged. But Marian seemed to collect the damaged. He looked to the others in the room. Varric had Bianca in his hands, a bolt loaded. Isabela's daggers and Aveline's sword were out, gleaming wickedly in the firelight. Merrill had her staff in her hands. Anders didn't know if they had prepared to save him from Fenris, or Fenris from Justice. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

_Best think they would have tried to help both of us_ , he thought.

"I see you told them the good news, Marian," he quipped. He couldn't handle the silence anymore. He wanted to leave, but he still had a part to play and Marian had just saved his life again. He shuddered and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.

Merrill was the first one to speak up. "I love babies!" Everyone blinked, the tension shattered far better than Anders could have done it.

"Of course you do, Daisy," Varric muttered as he removed the bolt from Bianca and sat back down. Aveline, Merrill and Isabela took their cues from Varric and sheathed their weapons, sitting as well. He looked to Fenris who stared back at Anders, his hands clenching into fists, his gauntlets creaking.

Marian looked back and forth from Fenris and Anders as she slid towards the mage. "Yes! I had just finished telling them when you came and," she cleared her throat, "Isabela was trying to guess who the father was. I was waiting for you to come so we could tell them together." She slipped her arm around his waist and smiled brightly at Anders.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Marian was smiling too brightly, the tone of her voice was off. Even the way she held herself next to the other mage was... Fenris tilted his head to the side. Something wasn't right. Oh, the movements were right, her arm around him, but she seemed to be holding herself away from him, even as she gave the illusion of gathering Anders close.

He half listened to Anders accept congratulations from the others. His eyes turned calculating as he instead watched the way the two mages acted towards each other. They were lying. Fenris knew this. He had spent what part of his life he could remember watching those around him. A slave who couldn't anticipate their master's moods or whims was a dead slave. He didn't know about what or why, but he knew they were lying.

Fenris didn't like being lied to.


	3. Chapter 3

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Marian placed the freshly rolled bandage into the basket at her feet. As she reached for another from the pile on the table next to her she sighed. Her fingers worked to roll the material into a compact bundle while her mind drifted.

It had been a month since Anders had moved in with her and Marian was bored out of her mind. She had taken to coming with Anders to the clinic during the day for something to keep her mind occupied. She had lasted all of a week in her house before she went stir crazy. The years of adventure had taken their toll in unexpected ways. She was her father's daughter and idleness wasn't in their nature. One of her friends had to come with her whenever she left the house to prevent any trouble she might get into. Varric had put it best when he told her that she didn't seem to understand what the word 'no' meant. So many people wanted her help and input as the Champion of Kirkwall. It was help she could no longer afford to give. Her friends had become adapt at deflecting when someone approached her and it made Marian want to scream. She couldn't stay in her house for months on end, but neither could she risk going out in public. Varric had even taken to collecting her unopened mail for her. She trusted him to go through the missives and write the correct things. It was a skill she wished that she had learned long ago, instead of rushing off to help someone with their problem the moment she finished reading the last sentence of a letter.

Everyone wanted a piece of the Champion. Marian couldn't be what they needed right now... if ever again.

It had been Anders' suggestion to come help him at the clinic. Marian's lips twisted in a wry smile as she reached for another piece of linen. She wasn't a healer the way Anders was, her magic didn't manifest that way. She was grateful to him for the distraction and a place to hide from the nobles of Kirkwall, but she had discovered that rolling bandages was only _slightly_ less mind numbing than sitting in her house.

Until Fenris showed up.

The elf had come four days ago to the clinic and didn't seem ready to leave anytime soon. Anders choose to ignore him when it seemed that Fenris wasn't going to budge from his place on a pile of crates near the clinic door. He was there when they arrived in the morning and he followed them back to Hightown at night. In a quiet voice that brooked no argument, he told Marian he was there to keep her safe. She snorted at the memory. As if she was made out of glass now. All of her friends treated her like this. While it was touching they all worried for her and her safety, she couldn't help but be agitated. It was as if the past few years hadn't happened and none of them remembered the fights they had been in together, the places and things they had seen. She had found a strength in Kirkwall and now she felt being pregnant had stripped that from her.

Bile bubbled in her throat and she sat very still while breathing shallowly. She was grateful for them all and what they were doing for her. But she was only two months pregnant and still hadn't completely come to terms with it yet. Marian had never thought she would be a mother. It was something for other women. It was something for the kind of woman her mother had always wanted her to be. It wasn't that she had never wanted to be one, she had just assumed it would never be her. The life that she lived wasn't conducive for being pregnant, let alone raising a child. The game Anders and her were playing was proof of that.

She felt a twinge of guilt and looked over at him. He had his back turned to her, bent over a nasty gash in a woman's leg. He worked too hard and it was starting to kill him. Marian could see it in his too pale skin and the way his clothes were starting to hang on him. He was at the clinic every day and sometimes well into the night. When he wasn't here he was working with the mage underground. He refused to tell her anything about it beyond what little she already knew. It pained her not to help when he was doing so much for her.

No one mentioned Fenris' attack on Anders at the Hanged Man. Maybe it was because everyone had been waiting years for just such a confrontation. At least, Marian hoped that was what it was. Anders refused to talk about it beyond flashing her a smile that didn't reach his eyes-something she was seeing more and more often-and telling her that it was nothing more than what he had expected.

Maker... She had expected more of their friends.

She glanced at Fenris out of the corner of her eyes. He sat with his greatsword between his knees, his claw tipped gauntlets wrapped around the hilt. He wasn't fooling anyone and she wondered how long this was going to go on before one of them said something. He was there to make sure Anders didn't step out of line. It wasn't for her sake, not the way he thought it was. The tension between Anders and Fenris had been ratcheting up since the first morning they had found him waiting for them at the door to the clinic.

_This was a mistake_ , she thought. _I shouldn't have brought Anders into this._ She knew what this was doing to him. For so long Fenris seemed resigned to Anders place in their little group. He kept silent for the most part, confining his comments to well placed glares sent the mage's way. Now he was using Marian as an excuse for free reign in his treatment of Anders.

She hated it.

But she had no choice.

She still hadn't told Carver about her condition. She didn't want to step foot in the Gallows for fear she would see _him_. She was afraid to write to her brother on the off chance he told her child's father of her pregnancy and he put two and two together.

Barely a month in and Marian was already feeling her house of cards shuddering under its own weight. She hadn't thought this through as well as she had hoped. But now she was committed, and when Marian Hawke committed, she didn't back down.

Anders finished healing the gash in the woman's leg. She didn't say so, but he was sure it was from a knife, the edges looked too clean and the wound too deep. He no longer cared to find out why his patients came to him. At first he had driven he and Justice crazy while he attempted to single handily right all of Darktown's wrongs. It was a losing fight and one he had to close his eyes to. He wiped the blood off his hands in a bowl of dingy water next to him as the woman slipped out, a muttered thanks on her lips. Thank the Maker. She was the last of the day.

He stared down at the bowl of water, lingering over its murky depths. He could feel Fenris' eyes on him, boring into Anders' back. Anders gritted his teeth. Andraste's tits! It was like being back in the fucking circle. Was this his life? Was someone with a greatsword over his neck always to be there? He took a deep breath and flicked his eyes over to Marian. Her face had changed to a slightly greenish cast and she held herself so still, Anders wasn't sure if she was breathing.

"Marian?" He turned towards her and she held up her hand.

"I'm fine. I-" She gagged and stood up, slapping a hand over her mouth and knocking over the basket of rolled bandages. "Excu-" She gagged again and ran towards the back of the clinic. Anders winced when he heard a door slam shut and the sound of vomiting echoed out.

"You've poisoned her, mage." Anders whirled around to face Fenris. The elf had extinguished the lamp and shut the door to the clinic, preventing anymore patients from trickling in.

Anders crossed his arms and gave Fenris a mocking smile. "If you think that, then I worry for any woman you get pregnant. Do you need to tell me how babies are made? You see when a mommy elf and a daddy elf love each other very much..." Fenris growled as he strode towards Anders, his sword slung over one shoulder.

Anders hated it when Fenris did that. It did something to him to see all that dangerous power strolling towards him, lethal lines rolling with a swordsman's grace. Anders knew it said something sick about himself, but he didn't dare delve into what.

"Is that what happened with you and Hawke?" Fenris asked. "You loved each other so much that you ignored all of your healer training about basic contraception?" Anders didn't like the look in Fenris' eyes. He took a step back, which was a mistake. One didn't show hesitation like that to someone like Fenris. Anders had seen him strike off the heads of men who hesitated.

"You know how it is," Anders smiled, pulling himself upright. "You're in the moment and all good sense goes out the window. I've loved her for so long and she finally returned my feelings." He shrugged.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he drawled. "Tell me about it then? This magical night. None of us knew the two of you had even been together."

If Anders was good at anything-besides running-it was lying. He had learned the art at a young age and hadn't stopped yet. "We didn't know where it was going and didn't want everyone prying. Not that it's any of your business." He turned and picked up the bowl he used to wash his hands. Fenris grabbed Anders by the shoulder and swung him back around. Anders dropped the bowl, the water splashing at their feet.

"It's our business now, isn't it?" Fenris asked, his voice silk over steel. "Marian can't go out without one of us with her. She's trapped in her house or this," he gestured around him, "clinic."

Anders felt himself snap. "Why are you here, Fenris? And don't give me the bullshit you gave us four days ago." Fenris tightened his grip on Anders' shoulder, crushing the feathers on his coat.

"Don't play the fool with me, mage. You know why I'm here." He pulled in close, just like he had at the Hanged Man. This time, there wasn't the agony of his hand on Anders' heart and the mage fought not to shiver as the elf's breath whispered over his skin.

"I'm not leaving," Anders said. He was proud of himself that his voice remained so steady. "So you can fuck off."

Fenris chuckled, the sound as far from pleasant as it could get. "I don't think so. You see, I know you and Marian are up to something. If I know it, then the others will know it soon enough, as well. I've spent the past four days watching the two of you." White hair brushed against Anders' jaw, some of the strands catching on his stubble as the elf leaned in close. "Both of you are concealing something," he whispered, his tone caressing Anders' like a lover. The sound moved down the mage's spine, lodging in his cock and he shivered despite himself. Maker, Anders could listen to Fenris talk all day.

_Well if he's not berating me_ , Anders thought. _That I could do without._ Many of Anders' prominent fantasies had featured that voice, whispering in Anders' ear as the elf took him roughly, telling Anders how good he felt, urging the mage to beg him for more.

_And how I would beg him_. The thought slipped across Anders' mind and felt felt Justice's disapproval. Justice was the only reason that Anders knew that Fenris wasn't here to hurt him, only threaten. If the spirit had thought Anders was in any real danger, he would have felt him trying to assert himself before now.

Something had changed in Anders. Fenris frowned, his lips brushing the mage's ear. There! It was an imperceptible shiver, a faint stiffening of Anders' shoulder under his hand. Fenris froze and pulled back slowly. He watched as the mage's throat worked while he swallowed. Fenris abruptly released Anders and took a step back, mimicking the mage's hesitation from earlier.

"Mage," his voice a warning growl. "Wh-" A door behind Anders creaked open, and Hawke's voice cut off anything that Fenris could say. "Maker I will be glad when the sickness part is over!"

Anders almost sagged in his relief when he felt Marian slip an arm around his waist. He turned to her, his eyes almost wild. "Feeling better?" Then, without letting her answer, "Right! Let's go home."

Marian sensed the tension in the room and she allowed Anders to lead her to the door and out into Darktown. She also didn't like the way Fenris was looking at him, like the elf just found a new puzzle he couldn't seem to reconcile with what he was seeing.

_Does he know?_ Marian thought. She fought to close her eyes against the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The feeling deepened when Fenris, for the first time in four nights, declined to walk with them back to Hightown.

Fenris watched them both walk away, his hands clenched into fists.


	4. Chapter 4

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* * *

It was an unfortunate truth that Fenris needed to consume more alcohol than a normal elf to get drunk. The wine trickled over his tongue and he closed his eyes in pleasure. As often as he'd had to serve Danarius the stuff, Fenris thought it only fair he got to finally drink it with abandon. His lips twitched in a feral smile as he pulled the bottle away. Swilling it like it was something you could get for two coppers at the Hanged Man only made it sweeter. Danarius had been so proud of his crystal goblets and the way the wine would shine inside them like rubies.

He dropped his head back against the rotting cushion of his chair and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't seen Hawke or Anders in a week. The hand that held the wine slipped off the arm of the chair to dangle, while the other rapped out a nonsensical rhythm, the claws on his gauntlet gouging holes into the chair. Since he couldn't seem to get drunk with any reliability, Fenris was left to do what Varric always accused him of-brooding.

He didn't know what angered him more, that Hawke was hiding something from him, or that the mage seemed to be her accomplice. No matter the answer, he knew why it bothered him. Hawke had forced him over the years to examine himself. He had opened up to her in a way he had never before in recent memory. She had been there when he had crushed Hadriana's heart and had not judged him. He had been the one person that Fenris could rely on to never betray him or to lie to him. In a world where everyone that Fenris had come into contact with dealt in duplicity and cruelty, it had been everything to him. To think that Hawke was just like the rest...

He snarled and threw the wine bottle across the room. It shattered against a rust colored stain on the wall that acted as a target, to land in a growing pile of broken glass. A week ago he had wanted to blame the mage. In fact he had done so and readily. But thinking about Anders only led him to... think about Anders. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. His gauntlets catching and pulling in his hair. If Fenris hadn't known better he would have said that Anders... what... Wanted him? Was attracted to him? He couldn't think of anything else to explain what had happened in the clinic.

And what had happened exactly? At its face value, nothing. But the tension that had spiked the air when Fenris had gotten close... He pushed himself to his feet and began to pace the room, going in a well worn circuit. It had been so subtle that Fenris was second guessing himself. If it had just been he himself that had felt it and not the mage, then that would mean...

He snarled again and slammed a fist into the wall, forcing himself to continue the thought he had been dancing around all week. It would be mean that he _wanted_ the mage. It would mean that four days of watching Anders in the clinic, the way the dim light reflected off of his hair and turned it a burnished gold, or the pull of his healing magic on Fenris' brands, a low level strumming plying down the lines of his body... He slammed his fist into the wall again, rejecting the way his body had felt, the way it still remembered.

He refused this.

He _refused_.

* * *

Carver pushed open the door to Fenris' mansion. He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell that slammed into him. Maker, he could never understand how the elf could live like this. When Carver had joined the templars, Fenris had been the only one who had understood his reasons. The two of them had spoken many nights about it, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. So when he had received Marian's letter this morning, he hadn't gone directly to her like he wanted to. Instead, he came to the one person he knew would be straight with him.

He didn't bother calling out to the Fenris to warn him he was there. The thing about templar armor was that it announced for you that you were coming. He climbed the stairs, sidestepping the rotting bodies. Fenris never had to defend the home he had appropriated. No thief would be crazy enough to try and break in, especially when there wasn't anything of value to tempt even the most stalwart of thieves. On the landing he saw firelight flickering out, sending shadows dancing. No wonder most people thought the place was haunted. Carver shivered. He half thought there might be truth in that.

"Ser Carver." Fenris had collected himself and was sitting back in his chair, another bottle of wine in his hand. He took a long pull and held it out towards the templar as he walked in and took a seat opposite the elf. "Dare I ask what has brought you here?"

"From the look on your face, I gather you're well aware of what has brought me here," Carver said. He took a drink to fortify himself. "I got a letter from Marian today. Seems that abomination has knocked her up. Oh, and he's living in our mother's house now." He rested his arms on his knees and passed the bottle back. "What in all the blighted deeps happened? Did he do this on purpose?"

"They say no," Fenris raised an eyebrow. "You seem to think otherwise?"

"Maker, yes!" Carver's eyes turned flinty. "I wouldn't put it pass him to get my sister pregnant. Why wouldn't he? He could have her money and the protection of the Champion of Kirkwall."

"I...I hadn't considered that," Fenris said. "But I don't think that's the case."

"Oh? When I told the Knight-Captain about it, you should have seen the look on his face. I think he was more shocked than I was." Carver gestured towards the bottle and Fenris gave it back to him. "He was asking me if Marian said how far along she was, and if anyone had known her and Anders were even sleeping together. You know, I wish you had told me, Fenris. I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, Carver. I didn't know either. Have you spoken with her yet?" Fenris' mind was working as he listened to Carver speak. Her brother hadn't known either. The elf knew that Carver and Hawke had a tempestuous relationship, especially since Carver had made the decision to become a templar. He didn't believe that Anders would get Hawke pregnant on purpose. That was stretching it, even for Fenris. The mage lacked the deviousness it would take to do something like that.

"Carver," Fenris interrupted him. "I don't think it was a plot. I genuinely believe this was an accident."

"Listen to you!" Carver smiled. "Defending the mage. He's an abomination, who knows what he would do."

"I'm not defending him!" Fenris snapped, sitting up in his chair, bristling. "I just don't think he would do that."

Carver's eyebrows climbed and he held out the almost empty bottle towards Fenris. "All right. If you don't think he would do that, then I believe you. You've been watching him for years, you would know better than anyone if he was capable of it."

Fenris paused, the bottle halfway to his lips. He _had_ been watching the mage for years. At first it had been for exactly the reason he had told Marian. Mage's were vipers waiting to strike when you let your guard down.

_What's your excuse now?_ he asked himself. He shook his head and drained the last of the wine.

"Go talk to her, Carver. I know no more than you do." He set the bottle carefully on the floor next his chair and got to his feet. He wouldn't tell Carver his suspicions. He had nothing to tell. Hawke and Anders were acting off, but Fenris knew no more than that. The last thing he wanted was to tell Carver and have the templar go to his sister with wild theories.

No, this was something that Fenris had to figure out alone.


	5. Chapter 5

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* * *

There were times that Anders didn't know what he hated more. The templars or the blighted Deep Roads. He worked at the stiffness still in his jaw that magic couldn't quite seem to take away. He should be grateful that Carver had taken his gauntlets off before striding into the Amell estate and clocking the mage. That was it. No words, no warning other than the heavy clatter of full plate, before Anders turned at Marian's scream to see a fist flying towards him. Things went downhill after that. Justice was not pleased to see a templar, no matter who he was, hitting Anders. Carver wasn't pleased that Anders was there at all, while Marian was unhappy her brother had decided to barge into her home and assume the role of protective brother. Between Anders wrestling with Justice for control and Marian yelling at her brother for being an ass, no one came out of it looking well.

He clenched his hands tighter around his staff, his eyes searching the shadows. How _did_ he let Varric talk him into these things? He hated the Deep Roads, and yet, here he was, walking through the blighted place. One would think he missed the darkspawn, the death, and the damned terror. They were Anders' 'Three D's of the Deep Roads', something he pulled out to remind himself that yes, being with the wardens had been _that_ bad at times. How dwarves still lived so close to the place was beyond him and he said as much to Varric.

"Don't ask me, Blondie. I'm not seeing the appeal either. Dwarves are stubborn that way, I think. Plus the money, can't forget that. Mining lyrium is good business." He had Bianca in his hands, bolt already loaded and ready.

"Next time you ask me for a favor I'm running in the opposite direction," Anders told him. "Get use to seeing this fine ass of mine." Anders couldn't seem to make himself stop since they entered the Deep roads. His mouth seemed to move faster than his brain could process. He blamed the stress of Justice and the insistent scratching of the taint in his mind.

_Two's company, three's a crowd_ , he thought. Over the past several months, Anders had finally begun to admit to himself that he was becoming unhinged. He was losing track of time in greater and longer patches, with no memory of what he might have said or done. Luckily, he had yet to do it around any one else yet, although he knew Marian was becoming suspicious. He would stay up at all hours of the night writing his manifesto, more often than not falling asleep at the desk. Marian had asked him why his handwriting seemed to lurch back and forth from two distinctly different styles once. He had been able to change the subject, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it from her for long.

_I just have to hold it together until she doesn't need me anymore_ , he promised himself.

"You're the one that insisted on coming," Varric reminded him. "I have to go, Varric. You don't understand the kind of trouble Nate can get into, the noble ass," he mimicked. "Can't blame this one on me, Blondie."

"Will you two be quiet?" Fenris had stopped and turned to look at the two of them. "I for one, would like to not attract every darkspawn in the vicinity." His brands were glowing, illuminating the rubble around them with a soft light.

"If only it worked that way," Anders' said, his eyes darting around the cavern. "How much easier would it be to bypass the darkspawn all together if we were just _quiet_. Just think on how many lives we could have saved during the last blight." He opened his mouth to say more, while his brain was telling him to _shut up_ and stop agitating the elf. Fenris was the living shield between Varric, Anders' and any darkspawn they came across.

_More like a battering ram,_ he thought. _Aveline is the shield._

"You shouldn't even be here, mage. Is this how you're planning on escaping from your responsibilities? By dying?" It was almost a reflex at this point-insulting Anders. It had started the moment they had descended into the Deep Roads, and Anders had made his first quip about 'watching where one stepped, darkspawn didn't care about shitting and eating in the same spot'. Fenris had gritted his teeth in irritation and the mage hadn't shut up since. Varric, of course, thought it was hilarious.

"If neither of you are going to take this seriously, then I suggest we leave and tell that woman her brother is lost." He turned his back on Varric and Anders and started to walk away. "Maybe you can explain to her how being in the Deep Roads was far too funny to rescue someone," he called back.

Varric shot Anders a sardonic smile. "Broody seems a might tense, Blondie. I mean, more than usual."

"We like him tense, remember? It makes for more hacking and slashing of the things trying to eat you and me," Anders said as he followed after the elf.

The dwarf chuckled. "No truer words have been spoken. You know, I almost think he-" Whatever Varric had been about to say was cut off when Anders abruptly stopped. The mage closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, his knuckles white as he clenched his staff.

"Maker..." he breathed. Anders took off after Fenris, Varric right behind him. The elf had disappeared around a corner.

The corner that had darkspawn waiting.

_Stupid. Stupid!_ he thought, his heart pounding in terror. He could feel them now, clawing at his mind, a scrabbling itch that became stronger the closer he got. Flames burst to life down his hands and arms and Anders pushed them up his staff, collecting fire in a tight ball of power at its tip. He rounded the corner and heard Fenris shout. He didn't stop to think, just swung his staff and launched the fireball at the nearest darkspawn. It screamed and flew back, engulfed in flames. Anders heard its dying screech in his mind and winced. "I _hate_ the Deep Roads!" he yelled, drawing from the fade to collect more fire.

Fenris was surrounded by darkspawn. Anders kept one eye on him as the warrior swung his sword in a high arc, severing the head of one darkspawn and taking the arm of another. Tainted blood sprayed over him. Fenris was covered in the stuff already. His white hair blackening with rapidly congealing blood. It dripped down his face and neck, and Anders felt his gut clench in fear.

_Not Fenris_ , he thought. He put his terror into his next spell. Fire roared out of his staff, a wave of scorching death. Next to him he could hear the snap of Bianca's string as Varric shot into the mass surrounding Fenris. Amidst the chaos, Anders heard another bow being let loose, this one quicker. He glanced around as much as he dared, taking his eyes off the fight and the elf who was keeping all of the attention on him. He spotted Nate high on a boulder letting loose arrow after arrow into the mob.

Justice shifted inside Anders, recognizing Howe. He could feel the spirit's apprehension and Anders felt a fissure of fear. Neither of them had thought passed rescuing Nate. They hadn't thought on what the man would say once he saw Anders again. Anders had left the wardens, an organization with no out clause.

He had left in a shower of body parts and blood.

Fenris was death come to the Deep Roads. He faded in and out of the here and now, standing between the waking world and the fade, a ghost that showed no mercy. Blades and claws passed through him before he would solidify, his sword hacking deep. One of his ribs was broken from a lucky strike, each panting breath he took, agony. He felt a wave of healing energy wash over his body, his bone knitting itself back together. His brands flared brighter the spell running along them like a lover's caress. He raged at the inappropriate sensation, and his next swing had more power behind it, taking down three darkspawn at once.

Anders rushed over to Fenris when the last darkspawn fell and reached into his pack for a skin of water. "Are you cut?" he asked, dousing a bandage. Fenris turned flinty eyes on Anders. He grabbed at the wet cloth and wiped at his face before Anders could.

"No. Save your concern for your friend, mage." Fenris was still on a high from the battle The adrenaline that had fueled him still running through his veins and sending his heart and mind to racing. He was fighting a different battle now, and he swiped vigorously at himself, as if he could remove the memory of what Anders' magic had done to him from his skin.

"I think Anders should be saving his concern for himself," Nate said. He walked over to Anders picking up arrows that had missed their marks on the way. "It seems like he doesn't know he's suppose to be dead."

Anders' mouth opened and closed a few times before he cleared his throat. "Nate, I can explain."

"Really..." Nate drawled as he crossed his arms, standing as if he had all the time in the world to listen to Anders. " _This_ I have got to hear. Or better yet, why don't I just take you back to Vigil's Keep? You can explain it to all of us, this way you won't have to repeat yourself."

"We don't have time for this," Fenris snapped. "We need to leave." He wanted to get out of here and as far away from Anders as he could. He couldn't seem to think with the mage near him.

"Broody's right," said Varric. "We've pushed our luck, time to get out while the cards are still good. Besides, Hawke will be worried, Blondie."

"Hawke?" Nate asked as he turned to Varric, his eyes sharp.

"Blondie's girlfriend? No, that sounds too sweet. Hawke would hate it," Varric said to himself.

Fenris rolled his eyes, his patience-or what little he had- at an end. "The mother of Anders' child. Now let's go." He ran the soiled bandage down the length of his sword, but stopped when Nate laughed. "What? That's impossible!"

Fenris' head jerked up and he saw Anders grow pale. The mage shook his head. "Nate, don-" What Nate said next, stopped Anders better than anything Fenris had said to him since they had entered the Deep Roads.

"Warden's can't have children. We're sterile."

And then everything clicked into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know that there is some debate on whether wardens can have children. There seems to be a very small possibility, if the woman is not a warden, but the father is. For this fic's purposes it is impossible.


	6. Chapter 6

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* * *

The trek back to the surface was long and silent. Fenris' rage simmered, heating to a rich anger. The Deep Roads was no place for explanations, no matter how badly they needed to be said. The moment the four of them hit the surface and took their first breath of fresh air in hours, Fenris felt his control snap. He grasped handfuls of Anders' coat in his fists and slammed the mage into a rocky cliff. Air whooshed out of Anders' lungs and he dropped his staff in surprise.

"Talk," was all the elf said. Anders closed his eyes in resignation only to have Fenris shake him, his head smacking against the stone to his back.

"TALK!" Fenris screamed into Anders' face.

Varric caught Nathaniel by the arm and shook his head. "Don't. Blondie is fine unless one of them starts glowing." He let Nate go and hefted Bianca. "Not much you or I can do if that happens, though."

"Then why wait?" Nate asked, unslinging his bow.

"Because I want to hear Blondie's answer," Varric replied. "Broody isn't the only one owed an explanation."

Fenris leaned in towards Anders. The mage could smell the tang of tainted blood on the elf. Some of it was crusting on Fenris' face and hair, small spots he had missed in his hurried cleaning. He noticed how the elf's markings were flaring, casting Fenris' features into a demonic light.

No matter how often he had dreamed about Fenris allowing himself to be this close to the mage, Anders couldn't summon up the energy to enjoy it. He felt defeated. In only a little more than a month, Anders had already been found out. How was he to protect Hawke and her child if he couldn't even last this long? No wonder the damned templars always found him when he escaped the circle. Anders had been fooling himself in thinking he was going to be any good at this.

"I don't know what to say," Anders whispered. He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head, feeling a lump beginning to form. He sent a trickle of healing magic and the pain eased before disappearing.

Fenris bared his teeth at Anders, his markings flashing in response to the to healing magic and his close proximity. Why was this happening? Anders' magic had always pulled on the lyrium brands. It was something that he had never told another. It was why he hated to be near a mage when they were practicing their craft. Danarius use to use it as a way to make Fenris uncomfortable, or to cause him pain. It had never felt this good before, though. The thought slipped in and out of Fenris' mind and his fingers twitched on Anders' coat, tearing holes in the thick fabric. "How about the truth? Are you capable of doing that, mage?" The fabric on Anders coat tore some more as Fenris tightened his grip further. "You aren't the father of Hawke's baby, are you?"

Anders licked lips suddenly gone dry. He couldn't meet Fenris' eyes as he shook his head. " _Look_ at me," Fenris hissed. Reluctantly, Anders lifted his gaze, and met Fenris' stoney stare. "Why?" A muscle in Fenris' jaw jumped as he bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. _Why did they lie to me?_ He had trusted Hawke, but she had obviously not trusted him.

"The father of Hawke's baby is a templar." Varric cursed softly and Anders flicked his eyes towards him before looking back. "She won't tell me who. She's afraid if the child shows signs of magic, it will be taken from her." Anders shift as much as he was able to get away from a rock that was digging into his back.

"A templar?" Fenris' eyebrows drew down sharply, something teasing the back of his mind. He was finding it hard to think with Anders so close. The smell of elfroot, lyrium and Anders' own scent assaulted his senses. He pushed away from the mage and started to pace, working off the nervous and unwelcome energy to clear his head.

"What do you know, Broody?" Varric asked.

"Carver came to see me last night," Fenris said. He stopped and turned to face the other three. He began to click the tips of his gauntlet together in a pattern, while he absently chewed on the knuckle of his other hand. Anders had noticed a long time ago, that the more Fenris fidgeted, the more irritated he was. It was as if all the agitation just under the elf's skin was forcing him to move.

Anders blinked. "Carver? He came by this morning." He rubbed at his jaw in memory. "So I have you to thank for calming him down before he hit me?"

The elf's fingers clicked faster. "As if I could have talked the man down. But that wasn't why I brought it up. He mentioned something to me, at the time it had just seemed like an idle piece of information, but now..." Fenris stopped moving, his arms going lax at his sides. "He told me the Knight-Captain wanted to know how far along Marian was. In fact, he had seemed very concerned about it."

"Andraste's taint!" Anders breathed. "The Knight-Captain is one step below the Knight-Commander. What was she thinking?" He slid down the cliff side and sat on the ground, eyes wide.

"I'd venture to say she wasn't," Nathaniel interjected. He shrugged when all eyes turned on him. "Look, I only know of Marian Hawke by reputation-the Knight-Commander as well. One doesn't get pregnant by Meredith's second lightly. By all accounts, Meredith is a strict task master that doesn't like to see her mages or her templars step out of line. If the Knight-Captain had a child, a wife, do you think she would tolerate that?"

"That's why she wouldn't tell me?" Anders muttered. "Damn it, Hawke."

Varric laughed. "Oh, I think she didn't tell you because of your friend." Anders knew the dwarf was right. Already he was fighting with Justice as the spirit raged inside him. Anger that wasn't his own surged through him and he gritted his teeth. "Thanks for pointing that out, Varric," he said.

"Friend?" Nathaniel asked. Anders felt Justice give a huge push in response and shunted his consciousness to the side. _This day was just getting better and better_ , he thought as he slipped into darkness.

* * *

The first thing that Anders noticed was that he smelled smoke. It wafted with a light breeze and fluttered over his face. He snapped his eyes open and saw stars. Hundreds of billions of stars. It wasn't the night sky of Kirkwall he was looking at, he realized. He lifted his hands to his face, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no traces of blood.

"You're awake." Anders let Fenris' voice wash over him.

"What did I do," Anders asked. Ignorance is bliss, but when it came to a spirit taking control, one needed to know if there was a body count.

"What did _he_ do?" Fenris restated. "Talked to Howe, mostly." Fenris wasn't going to tell the mage what choice words he had for the demon when he had appeared.

Anders closed his eyes in relief and sat up. They were still near the entrance to the Deep Roads, but night had fallen. Fenris sat on the ground a few feet away, a small fire crackling in front of him. "Varric and Nate..."

"Back to Kirkwall. I told them I would stay until you awakened." Fenris picked up a stick and stabbed at the fire, sending sparks shooting up into the night. "Howe wouldn't go until he was sure I wouldn't hurt you... or allow you to run." His gave Anders a humorless smile. "Wonderful friend you have."

"You don't know the half of it," Anders said as he stood up and walked over to the fire.

"You're right, I don't." Fenris looked away from Anders and stared into the fire. He could see the mage sit down in his periphery. "Justice and Howe seem to know you better than we do," he said idly.

It had bothered Fenris, hearing the two of them talk after Nathaniel had gotten over his shock. He had known that Anders was a Grey Warden, but he had never really thought before what that had meant. It showed the Fenris a different side to the mage that he hadn't wanted to see before. While he waited for Anders to awaken, he couldn't seem to let it go. If he was being honest with himself, he would say that he had never wanted to see anything more of Anders than the apostate that had allowed a demon in him. He was a blind mage on a mission, that would at best destroy him, at worst, cause untold chaos. So he took what he had seen of Anders recently and held that up for scrutiny instead. Anders had started a free clinic for the lowest in Kirwall. He gave of himself and asked for nothing in return. He had been there for Marian, courting the wrath of her friends. He also had been a Grey Warden and- from little he could glean from the conversation of the demon and Howe-had saved many lives at the risk of his own.

Fenris did not like what it said about himself.

He was beginning to understand why Hawke hadn't turned to him instead of Anders. Fenris couldn't begin to understand her position. He knew what the pain of having a child pulled away from a loving mother looked like. He had seen it many times in Tevinter. He had seen the women weeping, wailing as their children were snatched from their arms, never to be seen again.

Fenris sucked in a quick breath. Maybe he knew more than either he or Hawke had thought.

"I wouldn't say either Justice or Nate know me," Anders said. "At least, Nate doesn't know me anymore." He absently waved a hand, looking for the right words. "I'm not the same person that Nate knew. I use to be frivolous and selfish. The only times I ever risked myself was to save my own skin or to get away from the templars." He gave Fenris a wry smile. "Now I'm sneaking into the damned Gallows and snatching mages right from under Meredith's nose."

"So you never risked yourself for another when you were a warden?" Fenris asked despite himself. He found he was curious about Anders in a way that he hadn't been before.

"I... I guess I did." Anders looked surprised. "Justice seemed to think I was hiding myself away and ignoring the plight of my brethren. We use to talk about it... before..."

"Before you allowed the dem- spirit inside you," Fenris finished. He reached down and snapped a few sticks, tossing them into the fire. He watched the flames licking at the newly added wood. "Why?"

"Excuse me?" Anders asked.

"Why did you allow Justice inside you?" Fenris knew what he had thought was the explanation. Anders had done it for the same reason as any mage who took a demon inside them. He had done it for power. Now, Fenris wasn't so sure. If Anders wanted power, why had he been living in Darktown when they had found him, helping the poor and the forgotten?

Anders had only ever told Hawke the barest bones of his story, and didn't know how to answer Fenris. Something had changed in the elf. This was the longest conversation they'd had that hadn't led to accusations and insults. He wanted to tell Fenris as much as he never wanted anyone to find out what he had done. His heart pounding in his chest, he began to talk.

Fenris listened, only occasionally making an encouraging noise to urge Anders on. What he heard turn his blood cold. The joining between Justice and Anders had not gone well and the mage had woken up in a slaughterhouse. Blood and flesh had been spread all over, coating Anders hands and face.

"It was the taste of blood in my mouth that was the worse part. I had killed those meant to take me back to the circle. It didn't matter to them that I had been conscripted into the wardens. The moment the Warden-Commander's back was turned, they tried to take me." Anders began to shake in remembrance. "I didn't think it would be like that. I just wanted... I just wanted to be free."

"I killed a whole tribe of fog warriors that had given me shelter and freedom. It was the first time I had run from Danarius. He found me after only a few months of freedom and ordered me to slaughter the first people who had ever shown me kindness." The confession was pulled out of Fenris in a whisper, a truth for a truth. "I did as be bade me. It felt... inevitable."

They both sat in silence, listening to the night sounds. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to say something. Both of their confessions seemed too raw for any further words-the moment between the two of them too surreal.


	7. Chapter 7

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* * *

Marian was already sleeping when Anders returned home. Dawn had begun to lighten the sky by the time he and Fenris had made it back to Kirkwall. Anders felt too raw to go and find Nate. Howe knew where Anders was now, and Anders needed sleep to clear his brain for the argument that was due between them.

Fenris hadn't been very forthcoming when Anders had pressed him on what Justice and Nate had talked about. He'd only told Anders that the two of them had argued over taking Anders back to Vigil's Keep. Nathaniel seemed determined to drag the mage back to the wardens, and Justice was determined to keep Anders right where he was.

Neither had thought to consult with Anders on what he wanted.

Anders slipped his coat off and ran his fingers over the holes that Fenris had made. One of the side skills of being a healer was that Anders knew how to sew-he just wasn't sure if he was going to be able to salvage his coat without large patches. He carefully draped his coat over a chair and grimaced. He also wasn't sure if he could clean his coat well enough for it to be wearable. The Deep Roads were not conducive for keeping anything clean. Maybe he would give Bodahn a crack at it.

Anders sighed and scrubbed at his face with his palms. He could only hope that when Marian found out how badly Anders had failed, that she could see pass her anger long enough to realize that it was better this way. Anders was only one man, and he didn't have the contacts that some of their friends had. They should have told them a long time ago.

As he unlaced his shirt, Anders smiled to see that his bedroll was already laid out on the floor. He and Marian had thought it would seem suspicious if they weren't sleeping in the same room. That hadn't meant that they needed to share a bed.

He really needed to bathe, but he was too exhausted and the floor was beginning to look like a feather bed. Even Justice seemed to sense that Anders was in no emotional state to deal with him, and left the mage alone. He had done so as Anders and Fenris had talked as well, and Anders wondered at it.

He reached down to grasp the hem of his shirt when he heard the crash. He turned towards the closed door, even as Marian bolted upright in bed. Bodahn began to shout, yelling at someone that they couldn't just barge into the Champion's house like this.

"Anders," Marian whispered as she slipped out of the bed. They stared at each other across the room, both flinching when they heard the sound of plate mail. Marian began to tremble before she squared her shoulders and started for the door.

"No!" he gasped. He reached out and grabbed her arm, the silk of her blue nightgown almost slipping through his fingers. "Let me... let me look first." Bodahn's shouting was joined by others. Marian waited a heartbeat before nodding. She pressed her hands to her abdomen and took a step back from the door.

Carefully, Anders walked to the door and squatted down in front of it. He chewed on his bottom lip, and caught his breath as he cracked the door open. He eased it open as far as he dared and slipped out of the room at a crawl. He slid along the floor, moving towards the banister. Marian's house was so open, that if Anders was very lucky, he might be able to see who was down there-and how many.

Before he could get close enough, he felt the smite. Anders jerked to a stop and muffled his gasp against his arm. The smite slammed into him and cut off his access to the fade. He hadn't felt one in so long, that Anders was disorientated. The smite wasn't the work of one templar, it had encompassed the whole house.

_Too many_ , Anders thought as he scrambled back towards Marian's room. He didn't feel any reply from Justice and began to panic. The spirit wasn't a demon and the smite had effectively pushed Justice down. Anders felt the empty place where the spirit usually resided and knew true fear. Anders couldn't fight without his magic and he was no match for a group of templars without Justice. The ones at Vigil's Keep that had tried to take him so long ago hadn't thought that a healer would be any problem. They hadn't bothered with cutting off Anders from the fade.

He couldn't let them take Marian. She had never been in a circle before and would fight them. Fighting your fate in the circle only made the punishment worse. They would try and break her, and with Marian's spirit, they would end up killing her or making her tranquil instead.

Once back in the room, he shut the door behind him and bolted it, fumbling with the lock with hands gone numb. He turned towards Marian, both of their eyes wide. "Templars," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Too many of them. Did you feel the smite?"

Marian nodded, her hands clutching at her nightgown. "We need to leave." She swallowed, her spine straightening and she lost some of the fear in her face. "We need to leave out the passage. Bodahn can't hold them off for long." She dropped to her knees and reached under the bed, snagging the pack she had prepared for just this very thing.

Anders walked to the fireplace and ran his fingers along the mantle. He pressed at a slight indentation in the stone and took a step back. The fireplace swung out on well oiled hinges, opening to reveal a spiraling staircase that led down. Marian had thought of everything when she had renovated this house. Her mother had assured her that there was no reason to have an escape route anymore, but Marian had grown up on the run from the templars. Her father had taught her too well to relax.

He grabbed his coat from the chair and slipped into it. "You go first," he said. Marian didn't bother with getting dressed pass putting her shoes on. She grabbed her staff and a candle and moved down the first few steps of the passage. They could hear the metal clanking of the templars as they ran up the stairs.

"We'll send Varric a message in a few days," she said. "He'll know what to do." The shadows began to deepen and she spun around just in time to see the fireplace close.

"Run, Marian. I'll delay them for as long as I can," Anders said as Marian was plunged into near darkness-alone.

"Anders!" She pounded on the stone, screaming his name. The fireplace only opened one way to prevent anyone from using the passage to get into the house. She reached for her magic, only to be blocked. She turned and started running down the stairs. She had to get to Varric.

* * *

Anders awoke in the dark. This time he didn't have the stars above him, only stifling blackness. Pain racked his body, and he rolled over on his side on the cold, stone floor, curling in on himself. The templars had broken down the door to Marian's room and surrounded him. There had been too many for them to fit inside the room, and Anders had been encircled by a cage of steel. When the first blow had come, Anders had fought them. He may have been without his magic or Justice, but he was going to be damned if they found him cowering. Before he had blacked out, Anders realized they had not once asked where Marian was.

_They hadn't been there for her,_ he thought. They had finally cornered the aposate of Darktown.

Anders tried to reach for the fade, only to come up against a wall. He closed his eyes, a futile gesture in the all encompassing darkness. Most circles had prison cells built especially for mages. The magic that went into creating one was so old and such a carefully guarded secret, that Anders didn't think very many were capable of doing it anymore. He had spent a year of his life in the Ferelden circle inside such a cell. Lined with runes and seeped in magic, the cells cut off a mage's access to the fade. It was a perpetual smite, almost guaranteeing that the mage inside could not escape.

They also couldn't heal their wounds or defend themselves.

Anders gingerly slid his hands down his body, taking inventory of his injuries. He shivered, naked and cold while he cataloged two broken ribs and a multitude of bruises and swellings. His nose was broken as well and blood crusted over his face and lips.

The darkness of the cell taunted Anders, his mind hurtling back to the year he had spent in isolation. _They hadn't broken me then, I will not allow them to break me now_ , he promised himself. But he'd had Mr. Wiggums before. There was no cat coming to keep him company in the Gallows.

He shivered, his broken ribs screaming in pain with each breath he took. As long as Marian was safe, Anders would count this as worth it. He had promised her he would help protect her child. Giving her a chance to get away before the templars found the exit behind the fireplace, had been the only option. Anders' phylactery had been destroyed and Marian had never had one, but the templars wouldn't need one to find them. They would have torn the house apart and hurt Orana, Bodahn and his son until they told them where Marian and Anders were.

_But they hadn't been after Hawke, had they?_ he told himself. His hands clenched into fists. No. They had been after Anders. Because of him, Marian had to flee her home. He could only hope she had done as he asked and ran. Maybe if she got to the others they could come and-

No. He couldn't assume there was any rescue forthcoming. Even Anders hadn't been able to get into these cells to free the mages inside. The others didn't have his knowledge of the escape routes out of the Gallows that he had. He had only himself to rely on.

_The scenery is different, but all the circles are the same. If I could get out of one, I can get out of another._

Anders knew the layout to the Gallows like the back of his hand. He just had to be patient and survive long enough. He would get his chance-if his mouth didn't get him killed first.

* * *

Marian burst into Varric's room in the Hanged Man wearing nothing but a blue nightgown and a pair of muddy shoes. Her hair was tangled and dust clung to the dark strands in patches. She looked crazed and she knew it. Varric and Isabela both rose to their feet as she came in. A man with shoulder length hair stood as well.

"Hawke!" Isabela said. "We were just talking about you. Although you're making me look like a liar right now." She raked her eyes over Marian. "Honey, you look like shit. And here I was, talking you up to Howe. I even told him what a steadying influence you are on Anders." She brushed a cobweb off of Marian's shoulder and grimaced.

"No time, Bela." Marian slammed her palms down on Varric's table and leaned towards the dwarf. "The templars came for me this morning. They got Anders."

"And Justice allowed this?" The one Isabela had called Howe said incredulously.

"There were too many of them. They used smite. I think it did something to Justice." Marian shook her head. "He never made an appearance. I..." She felt Isabela's hand on her back, urging her to sit down. She had ran through the tunnels under her house, using forgotten passages to escape into Darktown. Then she had ran directly to the Hanged Man. The adrenaline that had kept her going was seeping out, leaving her drained. She covered her face with her hands.

"We have to save him. They'll kill him or make him tranquil," she said, her voice muffled. "I shouldn't have dragged him into this."

"And what would that be, Hawke?" Varric asked. "The part where you told everyone he was the father of your child? Or the part where you had him pretend he was?" Isabela's felt Hawke's back stiffen under her hand.

"This isn't the time, Varric," Isabela admonished.

"Oh? I think this is very much the time," Nate said. "The templars couldn't get to Anders when he was in Darktown. From what the two of you have told me, they would have had to go through a battalion of Ferelden refugees."

"I can't believe Meredith had the gall to come to my home, though," Marian said as she dropped her hands. "He should have been safe there!"

"Should have," Varric said drawing their attention to him. "But Darktown is out of sight, out of mind. Why do you think the gangs run down there? Or we find so many apostates and blood mages? No one cares what goes on in Darktown. Hightown, though, that's another matter. You and Blondie weren't exactly quiet about the fact he was living with you."

Marian rested her head on her arms and stared at the floor under the table. She absently noticed that the floor to Varric's room was cleaner than the rest of the Hanged Man. "How did you figure it out?" she asked.

"Warden's are sterile," Nathaniel offered. "It's not widely known."

"But you know it," Marian muttered. "Who else knows?"

"Just us so far," Isabela said. Her voice held no note of judgment. She'd once told Hawke that there was little she judged another for. No matter what someone had done, she'd more than likely done it too-if not twice.

"And Broody," Varric supplied. Hawke suppressed a groan. She could only imagine what Fenris was going to say to her.

Marian lifted her head. "This is my fault isn't it? Meredith can never imprison me in the Gallows so she's decided to go after Anders."

Varric nodded. "That is one possible reason. Or it could be as simple as Blondie made himself a little too comfortable near the nobles of Hightown."

"We could go around and around of the why's," Nate said. "Or the who's and Howe's," he mumbled, a small smile slipping over his lips.

"The sexy warden is right." Isabela sent Nate a sly look. "What matters is that one of ours is gone. What are we going to do about it?"

_She just doesn't stop_ , Marian thought. _Isabela will be flirting with the Maker when her time comes._

"Do about what?" Everyone's eyes jerked towards the door and went silent as Fenris walked into the room. A chill went up Fenris' spine. Hawke was wearing a dirty nightgown and even Isabel looked solemn.

Varric cleared his throat. "Templars came to Hawke's place this morning. They got Blondie."

The elf's lyrium brands flared so brightly, the light seeped through his armor. Anders would never allow himself to be caught. He'd heard the mage talk often enough about how he would rather die than go back to the circle. He knew what had happened the last time they had come for Anders. "There has to be a mistake," Fenris said, willing the others to tell him that it hadn't happened.

"No, mistake. Anders stayed behind to give me time to run." Hawke said brokenly.

"And the spirit?" Fenris asked. "He wouldn't allow this to happen." Justice would have torn the templars apart to protect Anders. Even if he didn't care about what happened to the mage, Justice cared about his cause and Anders' part in it.

"They cut us off from the fade. I don't think Anders could reach Justice." Marian touched her abdomen in a protective gesture and Fenris felt himself snap.

"This is your doing," he hissed. "If you hadn't let everyone know where he was, and lied about him being the father of your bastard-" Everyone spoke up at once, defending Hawke.

"Look, asshole-"

"Now, Broody, that's not fair."

"That's going too far!"

"Enough!" Hawke yelled as she stood up, silencing everyone. She rounded on Fenris. "I know you're angry with me, and we can have a spectacular fight about it later on, but right now Anders needs our help."

Fenris crossed his arms and snorted. His claw tip fingers started clicking together. "My apologies, Hawke."

"Accepted." Marian inclined her head. "And I'm sorry for not telling any of you the truth. But I can't go back. I can only apologize and never do anything like this again."

Fenris nodded as Isabela gave Marian a hug. It was going to take a lot more than an apology for Fenris. He was going to have to learn to trust her all over again. But right now, he couldn't think that far. "Do you think the father of your child knows?" he wondered, startling everyone.

"I..." Marian sat back down. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Does anyone know if the Knight-Captain is a vengeful man?" Fenris asked.

Marian groaned and tilted her head back to squint at the ceiling. "Nothing is secret with you guys."

"I wouldn't know about that," Isabela smiled. "I know one or two things that none of you do." She looked at Fenris speculatively and the elf shifted on the balls of his feet. He was never drinking with the woman again. Wine tended to loosen his tongue too much.

"I'm not sure you could say he is vengeful," Nathaniel said, ignoring the by-play of the others. "I do know he was posted at the Ferelden circle at the same time Anders was. The man went through a horrible time of it before he was transferred here. A group of blood mages tried to take over the circle. They imprisoned him. He didn't come out of it well."

"So we have Blondie taken to the Gallows and we have the Knight-Commander and maybe the Knight-Captain with a grudge against Hawke and Blondie," Varric summed up.

"So we have nothing," Fenris stated. "We need information. We need Anders' contacts inside the Gallows to find out what they intend to do with him, and where he is being kept."

Isabela took out one of her daggers and began to clean her nails. "I have to say, Fenris, I'm surprised you are even considering helping Anders. I would have thought that you'd be all for leaving him where he belongs. You know, locked up for his own good."

Fenris gritted his teeth against the pirate's too knowing smile. _Never_ drinking with her again. The woman was a menace.

Having made her point to Fenris, Isabela sheathed her dagger and got to her feet. "Well. I know where I'm going. The Blooming Rose is filled to their hedonistic rafters with templars. I'm on a first name basis with most of the employees. I'll see what I can find." She grinned at Howe. "Care to join me? No one knows you in Kirkwall. You might be able to find something out I can't."

Marian rolled her eyes. The Rose was the last place where Isabela needed help finding information. She practically owned the place.

Varric grinned as Isabela and Howe left. "Poor bastard." He took a large drink from the tankard in front of him, forgotten when Marian had burst into the room. "You and I are going to get a hold of your brother, Hawke. We'll have to be careful, though. They're sure to be watching him now."

"And my occupation?" Fenris didn't like feeling this way. The night before, he and Anders had come to some sort of understanding. What that was, the elf couldn't say. He didn't hate the man anymore, that much was true. But thoughts and feelings beaten into from his remembered lifetime reared its head. The rest of Thedas confused him. The Imperium was so different,-the circles a joke-that he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the plight of the mages here. All he knew was that if someone wanted freedom badly enough, they would make a deal with a demon in order to get it.

Fenris was finding he couldn't blame them for the sentiment. Even if he did blame them for the act.

"You get to do what you do best, Broody," Varric said as he chuckled. "You get to go and scare some mages. Get them to tell you who Blondie's contacts are. I'd start with Darktown."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have a lot of story still to go, I hope everyone is willing to sit out the ride!  
  
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* * *

"Broody, you need to sit down. You're giving me a headache." Varric leaned back in his chair and watched Fenris make another circuit around the dwarf's room. Fenris stuttered to a halt and stomped over to a chair. He threw himself down into it, his normal grace gone in his agitation.

"It's been three days." One of his feet began to tap on the floor. "Why haven't we moved yet? The mage could be dead by now. The man has no sense of self preservation."

Tap. Tap. Tap. Varric sighed and gave Fenris' foot a pointed look. "Maybe I should have let you pace." He sighed again when Fenris pushed to his feet and began to move once more around the room. The elf was ready to explode. It had started when Fenris had found out Anders had been taken. With each dead end, his anger had only grown. The mage underground had gone... well, underground. News had spread fast that Anders was in the Gallows, and the resistance had scattered, going into hiding until the dust settled. Anders knew too much about the underground's operations, contacts and methods. No one wanted to be the next one to wake up to templars at their door.

"Why don't we just do as Howe suggested?" Fenris asked. "It seems like a sound plan to me."

"Because that should be a last resort. With the Viscount gone, there is only Meredith and the Grand Cleric. Who do you think Howe should go to with his demand? One is ineffectual and the other is power-mad." Varric shook his head. "I doubt that Meredith fears the wardens. If Howe demands Blondie back, it could get ugly."

"So we do nothing?" Fenris demanded. "Hawke is hiding at my house like a criminal. Carver hasn't been able to get in to see the mage. Even you and Isabela haven't been able to get information from your contacts. The blood mage can do nothing. It's like the man entered the Gallows and ceased to exist!" Fenris knew his voice was rising, but he couldn't seem to keep his anger in check.

Varric held up his hands. "Calm down, Broody. If Blondie was dead, his body would have been hung from the Gallows for all to see. Meredith wouldn't pull any punches."

"And if he's been made tranquil?" the elf said. He almost couldn't get the words out. Four days ago, Fenris would have said he hated the mage and that Anders was finally where he belonged. But something had changed in him. He absently rubbed at his chest. It was if the moment Fenris had decided to actually listen to what Anders had to say, the mage had become a completely different man. He knew that it wasn't true, Anders wasn't the one who was transformed, it was only Fenris' perspective. He could finally admit-even if it was just to himself-that maybe not all mages were evil. It wasn't magic that made a mage twisted, it was the person wielding it. The revelation had come to him two nights ago as he scoured the streets of Darktown fruitlessly. It had stopped him in his tracks, his breath leaving him like a punch in the gut.

He knew that the others had noticed his change in attitude when he talked about the mage, but they had of yet mentioned it to him. He bristled with each new block that was thrown up at them. Everyday he advocated more and more for just walking into the blighted place and taking Anders. Granted, Howe's idea was better than the brute force method that Fenris was demanding. The warden wanted to simply petition Meredith and the Grand Cleric for Anders release. Anders was a warden that had deserted his post, therefore he should go to warden custody and be brought back to Vigil's Keep. Fenris knew why the others didn't want to do it. Varric was correct in thinking that Meredith and Elthina didn't fear the wardens, but there was more to it than that. If Howe took Anders... the man would be gone. Howe's plan was no subterfuge, he really meant to take the mage back.

"If he'd been made tranquil then we would have seen him hawking trinkets by now. Either way, he would be on display as a warning to others." Varric sounded so sure of himself, that Fenris wanted to believe him. But his life rarely ever worked out so neatly. Just when he finally kills Hadriana, she tells him of a sister. Just when he realized that there was more to a man he had known for years, he'd been taken.

No, nothing was so easy.

"Howe doesn't need our permission to do this thing," Fenris reminded Varric. "He only waits out of courtesy." Fenris had even encouraged the warden in his endeavor. It frustrated him that the others seemed to rather see Anders dead, than alive and away from Kirkwall.

"No, he doesn't," Varric said, his eyes tracking Fenris as he paced around the room, his bare feet padding on the carpet. "He is waiting to see who he should make his petition to. The man knows what he's doing when it comes to politics. He's been seen in Hightown, the chantry and the Gallows the past few days. Unless we can get to Blondie first, Howe is going make his move soon."

"And would that be so bad?" Fenris growled. "He would be alive. I don't understand why none of you can see this." He stopped and slashed his hand in the air. "Alive is better than dead. Or have I been mistaken in thinking that? Here I thought that breathing was preferable."

"Oh, ho!" Varric smirked. "Broody is making a joke. Now I know we're fucked." He rested his elbows on the table top and leaned forward on his arms. "None of us want to see Blondie killed, but we also can't guarantee that the wardens will be any better. He did run from them."

"That was different." Fenris couldn't tell Varric how he knew it was different. The confidences that he and Anders had quietly shared before a fire, were not for public consumption. "And I know they won't kill Anders. Howe gave me his word."

"Since when do you believe a man's word, Broody?" Varric's eyes turned speculative. "The Howe name isn't known for being truthful."

"I have my reasons," Fenris was being evasive, but he didn't care. It was none of the dwarf's business why he was trusting Howe, or why he was trusting him with Anders' life. "Just believe me when I say that Howe will not hurt him if this works."

"You have to give me more than that, Fenris." The fact that Varric had used his name, instead of the insipid nickname he always used, gave Fenris pause. He didn't have to tell him everything, just enough to get him to cooperate. Howe needed them as backup in case it went wrong. Fenris was more than willing to go, they just needed the others.

Fenris took a seat again and folded his hands on the table. "What I say can never be told to anyone else. No writing this down. No names being changed _just_ enough to get away from the truth. More than the mage's life is at stake."

"Well now." Varric settled back in his chair, his voice full of interest. "That's a tall order, Broody. But I can promise it. If," he held up a finger, "it's everything you're hinting it is."

Fenris breathed in deeply. "You were there when Howe talked to Justice. He has told me since that Justice has changed. The Justice we know and the one that Howe knows is completely different. Howe used the word 'insane'. He's convinced that Justice is turning into the demon he so despises. Vengence, is what he called him. Howe thinks that Justice will only leave Anders when he is dead."

"This is only confirming what we've all suspected for a long time now, Broody," Varric interrupted. "It's also not assuring me that Nathaniel doesn't mean to hurt Blondie."

Clenching his hands together to prevent himself from fidgeting in frustration, Fenris gritted his teeth at Varric. "Just listen to me. Howe has informed me that his Warden-Commander is the Hero of Ferelden. During the blight, the Hero came across a young boy that had been possessed by a demon. He was able to free the boy without killing him."

Varric's breath left him in a rush. "That's..."

"Exactly." Fenris felt some of the tension in his body leave him. Always on a short fuse, he was having trouble lately with reining in his temper. He'd even yelled at Merrill yesterday, which was akin to kicking a puppy. He knew she was a lost cause and had long ago stopped baiting her, but recently every little thing someone did seemed to set him off.

"All right, Broody. You win. If Howe can get him out of there and take him somewhere where he can get help, then I'll back you."

* * *

Anders didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. His stomach ached with an emptiness that told him it had at least been more than a day. With only the darkness and his thoughts for company, Anders had to fight to keep himself from drifting. It had been so long since he'd been alone in his own mind, that it had been overwhelming. He saw now that Justice had taken more of his psyche than he had previously thought. It was a slow encroaching, a bleeding of the spirit's personality into Anders' own that frightened him.

_What did I do to myself?_ was the question he kept coming back to. He never found an answer that he liked. He had always known that Justice had changed once the two of them had merged, but now it was becoming apparent that more than that was taking place. The things that Anders had believed so passionately before now, seemed mad. For Maker's sake, he'd devised a plan to blow up the chantry. Why would such a thing _help_ the mages in the circle? That wasn't him. No matter who he was now, he wasn't a murderer. He healed people and was good at it. It wasn't just his ego talking-maybe some of it was-but Anders saved lives. He hated the templars and the circles and all they stood for, but not enough to kill so indiscriminately. There was no end game in that. Only his own death once he was caught.

And Justice _wanted_ them to be caught.

More than once he'd thought he was going insane, but now he knew it wasn't him. It was Justice. The spirit was never meant to reside in a human host for so long, not one as commanding as Justice was. The relief he felt at knowing his own sanity was fleeting. The second he stepped out of this cell, Justice would reassert his control. Would Anders even remember his realizations, or would Justice take them from him when he found out that Anders was no longer willing to cooperate?

He'd only ever wanted his freedom. Now it seemed like he was trapped once more. Only this time, there was no way out.

_There is a way out_ , came the unbidden thought.

No. Not here at least. If he was to die then he would do it on his own terms. Not Justice's and not the templars.

When the door to his cell opened, Anders cried out, his light sensitive eyes watering. He pressed his arm to his ribs and shifted to stand. He might be powerless, naked and in pain, but Anders refused to not face the templars on his feet. He stood weaving, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Apostate," the templar stated in that tone that all the templars seemed to use. Anders thought that they must learn it as part of their training. "You are to be brought up before the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter." At that, Anders snorted. Everyone knew that Orsino was afraid of Meredith. He would have no help from that corner. The templar reached up and pulled his helmet off. Anders fought not to panic as he saw who it was.

"But first," the Knight-Captain said, "we are going to have a little chat.


	9. Chapter 9

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* * *

"Chat? I doubt you have anything to say to me that I would be interested in." Anders shifted on his feet and tried to take the pressure off his aching ribs. He was sure he looked and smelled like shit. His face was swollen where he had tried to straighten the break in his nose. He could just imagine the two black eyes he was sporting. No good could come of taking to Cullen. The man was like all templars, arrogant and full of their righteous power. He hadn't even bothered closing the door to Anders cell. Powerless and weaponless, Anders would never be able to make it past a fully armored templar.

_If only I could tip him over. That much weight, he would be on his back like a turtle._

"I remember you," the other man continued anyway. "You held the record for the amount of escape attempts." Cullen stroked the facial hair on his chin, with a steel encased hand. "Earned yourself a year in solitary for your trouble."

Anders stared at Cullen with suspicion. He didn't like the templars amiable tone. He couldn't trust the man when he was wearing _that_ armor, and blocking the only avenue of Anders' escape. Anders remembered Cullen as well. The man had been too serious by half and always followed the rules. He was one of the worst kind of templars-the true believer. At least with some, one could tell that they were only in it because they liked the power and respect they got from being the arm of the chantry. They made it easy to spot them as they strutted around the circle, traveling in packs that roamed the halls in search for a mage caught out on their own. Cullen's kind though, they thought they were helping you while they held a sword to your neck.

"Don't play games," Anders said, getting straight to the point. "What do you want?" Cullen craned his neck back and looked out the door, glancing down the hall. Anders stiffened and slid back a step. He recognized the signs of a templar that didn't want any witnesses.

When he was sure they they were alone, Cullen turned back to the mage. "You want me to get to the point? Then so be it. I want to know if you're really the father of Marian Hawke's child. You would do well to be honest with me."

"And why would you want to know something personal like that?" Anders placed a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt that you would insinuate that the mother of my child has lied to me."

Cullen's eyes flashed. "You asked me not to play games, so it only stands to reason you return the courtesy. Marian Hawke was with me-several times-two months ago. She's not the type of person that would be," he seemed to be searching for the right words, "intimate with more than one man at once and not tell them of it."

It was one thing for Anders to suspect that the Knight-Captain was the father of Marian's child, it was quite another to actually hear it. _Marian, what did you do?_ he thought.

The heavy steel of Cullen's armor creaked as he ran his fingers through his short hair. "Promises were made...She told me-"

"I don't know what she said to you, and I don't want to know." Anders held up his hand to stop Cullen from saying anything more. He didn't need to know the particulars. It was bad enough that Cullen seemed so distraught. Anders couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"She told me that she loved me," Cullen pushed on and Anders winced. "Then I didn't hear from her for a month."

_Stop_ , Anders pleaded silently. _I don't want to feel sorry for you._

But Cullen didn't stop. It was as if the moment he had Anders in front of him, everything came pouring out. "I had to find out from her _brother_ that she was pregnant with _your_ child and living with you. She never told me, as if what we had didn't matter anymore."

Anders couldn't take it anymore. "Look. I'm not the person you should be talking to. In fact, I would just as soon never have this kind of conversation with a templar again. If I wasn't the father-and I'm not saying I am-I would advise the real father to maybe think of what kind of position Hawke was put in. Maybe her being a mage had something to do with it, and how mages are treated in Kirkwall." He gave Cullen a feral smile. "Your boss doesn't like to share and she seems to hate apostates." Anders shrugged and regretted the action when his ribs screamed. "If I wasn't the father. Which I am not saying that is the case."

Cullen closed his eyes as he absorbed what Anders had said. He nodded, coming to his own decision. "And say the man that was the father wanted to help the man that wasn't," he said, opening his eyes. "In thanks for protecting someone when he couldn't." He opened a small pouch at his waist and took out a healing potion. He held it out to Anders. "This is all I can do. There is more to your arrest then even I know."

* * *

Fenris stood on the boat, his arms leaning against a rail as he watched the Gallows draw closer. He'd had to tell the others the same story he'd told Varric. Howe hadn't been too pleased, until Fenris had assured him that no one would breath a word of what they planned to do to Anders once they freed him.

Clouds gathered over the Gallows, casting everything into a dim grey. Water sprayed over him as the boat leaped over a wave and came crashing down again. Behind him, he could hear Merrill squeal and Isabela's reassurances.

Despite their objections, Hawke was with them as well. He glanced back and watched her vomit once again over the railing. He had made this boat trip to the Gallows with her before and had never seen her get sick like this. A storm was coming so the waves were rougher than usual. The boat rocked and bobbed over the water, and Fenris had to grip the railing to prevent himself from being knocked over.

He had no illusions that Howe's plan would go off without a hitch. Meredith had shown that she cared not for anyone's authority but her own. Fenris knew that she would deny Howe's petition.

He was counting on it.

He felt like the wolf that Danarius had called him. He felt feral in his rage. Fenris' fists tightened on the railing and gouged deep lines into the wood. Meredith had taken someone from him. She was a threat to Hawke and her child. He just needed a way in to see her and Howe was the perfect answer. If she refused to give Anders over, then Fenris was going to take him from her. He'd paint the Gallows in blood if he had to.

Howe stood next to him and watched the Gallows move inescapably closer. The man was doing so much for Fenris and Anders. More than Fenris could ever repay.

"I know what you're thinking," Nate said just loud enough to be heard over the sea. "What you want to do isn't going to be an easy out. It's getting worse, isn't it?" He nodded towards Fenris' hands. "You're about to break the railing."

Fenris forced himself to relax his hands. "I can barely control my anger," he admitted as he leaned closer to the warden. "And I'm not planning on anything. I'm just less hopeful than you are about our chances of success without bloodshed."

"We're running out of time." The wind blew Nathaniel's hair across his face and plastered it wetly to his skin. "We need to get Anders out of there before he gets himself killed. You don't have much longer as well."

"I'm aware," Fenris said dryly. "You... you are a stranger to me, yet you have done so much for me already. I don't know how I can repay you." He didn't like being in another's debt the way he was now.

"Don't worry, you're going to be repaying me for the rest of your life, remember." Howe's lips twitched. "But let's save our concern for the present. You may be right in your assumption of our chances."

* * *

Anders dutifully drank half the healing potion and made a moue of distaste at the flavor. He could feel his ribs start to knit back together, the ache dulling. He quickly gripped his nose and stifled a scream as he pushed it into place and waited until he could no longer feel the break. The puffiness in his face receded and he let out a sigh of relief. He would still have some bruising on his face around his eyes, but he already felt better than he had in days. Cullen had warned him not to drink the whole potion. He was to see the Knight-Commander and it would looks suspicious if he came to her whole and well.

"She seemed pleased that she didn't capture Marian," Cullen explained as he handed Anders a plain linen robe. Anders slipped it on stiffly, his sides still sore. "I think she's using you as bait in a trap. She is expecting Marian to come and get you." He rested his hand on the pommel of the sword strapped to his side. "It's been five days since you were arrested. Marian hasn't been seen yet and the Knight-Commander is getting restless. I'm to bring you to her." Cullen lifted his helmet to resettle it back on his head. "Say little to her. She has been strange of late and quick to anger."

Anders used the distraction of Cullen putting his helmet back on to blink at the man in surprise. He wasn't the same anymore. The old Cullen would never have sneaked a potion to a prisoner and given him advice on how to deal with the Knight-Commander.

_But did I ever really know him?_ Anders asked himself.

He knew the smite had happened only because of the familiar gesture Cullen made when he cast it. He beckoned Anders forward and they walked out of the cell.

They didn't speak while they walked down the twisting hallways of the Gallows. Cullen because his helmet prevented anything under a shout from penetrating, and Anders because he was lost in his own thoughts.

He had to admit that he hadn't ever talked to Cullen beyond what was necessary in the Ferelden circle. He had treated all of the templars that way. Some of them liked to play with a mage's emotions. They would get you to like them, either as a friend or a lover, and then would turn on them, laughing to their colleagues about what an idiot you were.

No, thank you.

It had never happened to Anders, but he had seen it enough times to learn the lesson well. Listening to Cullen talk about Hawke had made Anders reconsider his assumptions about the man. Hawke was a known apostate for Maker's sake. She also wasn't the sly seductress that some mage women were painted as when a templar fell for one. Anders felt a little sick wondering how Hawke and Cullen had gotten together. He wanted to know, but then, he really, _really_ didn't. He had always felt this way when he heard of a mage and a templar getting together. Why would you want to sleep with one of your jailors? But the way Cullen had acted when he had poured out his questions...

He didn't think the man was lying.

_I'm sounding like Fenris and his mage prejudice_ , he admitted to himself. _I accuse him of only seeing what he wants to see. Am I guilty of the same thing? Coloring all templars with the same brush._

He knew who he _wasn't_ wrong about and they both stopped right in front of her office door. Cullen gave Anders an imperceptible nod with his helmeted head, and rapped on the door with a steel fist. There was a mumbled voice of assent in answer and Cullen pushed open the door.

The last time Anders had seen Meredith had been when Marian had killed the Arishok. She had changed dramaticly since then. Her hair hung dull and lifeless, and the skin on her face seemed too tight for her skull. She sat behind her desk a smile on her face that tried to be welcoming, but was more predatory.

"Ah! There you are Knight-Captain. I was wondering what was taking so long," she said as Anders and Cullen stopped int the middle of the room. She stood up and skirted around her desk towards them. She began to circle Anders like a vulture who wasn't sure what choice of flesh she wanted to pick from his bones.

"He was unconscious, Knight-Commander," Cullen dutifully replied. The lie tripped smoothly off his tongue and Anders wondered if he had come up with it on the spot, and how often he'd had to do it before.

"He's awake now." She tilted her head to the side and considered Anders. "Tell me, apostate, what do you think I should do with you?"

Anders knew it was a trick. There was no right answer so he said nothing, following Cullen's advice. The man seemed to know how to deal with Meredith.

"No answer?" She chuckled, the sound sending shivers up Anders' spine. "How about I tell you what I am going to do, hm?" She moved into his line of sight. "You're going to be made tranquil. Kirkwall can't have apostates thinking they can just open a clinic in Darktown under my nose and get away with it. People that should have been going to the chantry and receiving the healing gifts of the Maker, were going to _you_ instead."

Anders tried to bite back his response, but it slipped free anyway. "The chantry charges for their services. Those people were being turned away."

Meredith swooped down on that. "But you didn't turn Marian Hawke away, did you? I know what you are to her, apostate." A manic light lit her eyes. "Two apostates breeding more. It's shameful. I won't allow you or her to get away with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Anders saw Cullen tighten his grip on his pommel. The man had been right when he said that Meredith was using Anders as bait. She had always hated that Hawke was running free in, what she saw as, her city.

Anders opened his mouth to reply when the door behind him slammed open. A young knight stood in the doorway, panting. "Knight-Commander," he said as he saluted weakly. "A group of people just disembarked at the docks. One of them says that he's a Grey Warden. We've stopped them at the courtyard, but they are demanding to see you." The relief that Anders felt almost drove him to his knees.

"What does a warden want with me?" she demanded.

"He said that you hold one of his brethren and he want him turned over."

Meredith shot a glance over to Anders. "So, what they say about you is true." She swept towards the door. "Bring him Knight-Captain."

* * *

Fenris eyed the templars in the courtyard and they returned his gaze. He shifted from one foot to another and felt the comforting weight of his sword swing on his back. "Why are we waiting on her? Let us force our way in and be done with it," he hissed.

"Because, she's displaying her power to me," Nathaniel replied calmly. "It's an old game. Make the other person wait in the most intimidating part of your household." He yawned. "She's not very good at this, is she?"

"Maybe not, warden," Varric laughed. "But all that steel looking at me is doing a pretty good job." He hadn't left Merrill's side since they disembarked from the boat. The blood mage had never set foot in the Gallows before and none of them wanted her to show the templars exactly why.

"Champion. I see you're here as well. I've been waiting for you." Meredith's voice rang out across the courtyard and they all turned towards the sound. Fenris' eyes drank in the sight of Anders wearing plain robes and walking behind the Knight-Commander-alive and not tranquil.

"I know you have, Meredith," Hawke sighed. She pushed herself to the front. "Why did you order your men to invade my home?"

"To capture an apostate, why else? Have you come to ask for your lover to be freed? I won't allow it. The man has proven dangerous. Instead of killing him as he should be, I will be benevolent and make him tranquil." The smile that Meredith gave Hawke was cruel. "I will allow your child's father to live."

Howe grabbed Fenris by the arm as he lifted a hand to unsheathe his sword. "No," he whispered. "You have to let me try first." He loosened his grip and let go when he felt the muscles in Fenris' arm relax and the elf nodded his ascent.

"Knight-Commander," Nathaniel called out, drawing her attention. "I am Nathaniel Howe, a Grey Warden. The apostate known as Anders is one of my brethren and a deserter. I request that he be turned over to my custody immediately. The chantry has no authority over warden matters and they take precedence. I have in my possession letters signed by the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland, that give me my authority as a Warden of the Grey. The letters ask that I move through your city without hindrance and give any assistance that I require, in accordance to the treaty signed between the Viscount of Kirkwall after the Tevinter fell." He took only one breath and pushed on.

"I also claim a prior Right of Conscription. Warden Anders was conscripted nine years ago by the Warden-Commander himself. The wardens are allowed to take any that they deem acceptable to join. Criminal history or social status do not come into play."

"And why were you in my city, Warden Howe?" she asked evenly.

"I was with a group investigating a recently uncovered thaig. In the Deep Roads. The entrance is near Kirkwall. There have been rumors of an artifact there that we were following and-" He stopped when he saw Meredith grin.

"I know of what you speak, so I can give you some of the assistance that you require." Varric and Isabela cursed under thier breath. Hawke tightened her grip on her staff, while Merrill pulled hers from her back. Fenris was the only one to shout when Meredith unsheathed her sword and a demonic red glow that they all knew so well, flared to life and enveloped her.

"No!" Fenris screamed, his greatsword in his hands and his own brands giving off an answering glow of their own.

Meredith laughed. "Kill them all!"

The Gallows erupted.


	10. Chapter 10

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* * *

Cullen grabbed Anders by the hand and pulled him away from Meredith. The ground nearest to her erupted and they both staggered as the earth shook. He steadied the mage next to him and half dragged the man towards Hawke. Meredith had seemed unsteady for a long time now, but Cullen had not understood the magnitude of what was wrong. As the man who was second only to Meredith in the Gallows, he berated himself for not having seen it before. It was his duty to make sure that nothing like this happened. His own men had been constantly undermined for reasons that Cullen couldn't ever see. Blood mages and abominations were rampant in Kirkwall to a degree that he'd never witnessed before. Considering his own past, he should have known something wasn't right. There was an evil in this city, simmering just below the surface. Cullen hadn't realized it had always been under his nose.

As he and Anders approached, a white haired elf lifted the largest greatsword Cullen had ever seen, and snarled at him. "Let him go!" A blue light enveloped the elf's hands as he shifted his stance to better heft the massive weapon.

Cullen let go of Anders and ripped his helmet off. He dropped it to the ground with a clang. "Take him! He doesn't have access to his powers." He pulled his sword free and pushed passed the elf, his steps determined and carrying him towards Marian. He yanked off the gauntlet from his free hand and reached out to her. His bare fingertips touched her cheek and her mouth fell open as she lowered her staff.

"Cullen..." she whispered.

"Did you really think so little of me?" he asked, as if they weren't surrounded by hundreds of templars who would gladly take their heads. He didn't give her a chance to reply before his lips were on her's. The kiss was fleeting, a quick touch of shared breath. He pulled back and gave her a small smile at the startled look in her eyes.

"I-" was all she got out before she looked behind him. "Maker preserve us," she breathed.

* * *

When the first statue came to life, Anders found himself thrust behind Fenris and Nate. The two of them became a thorny wall of arrows and steel. "I can't heal you!" he shouted over the pounding of the earth as the statue hit the courtyard and sent cobblestones spraying. he considered asking Cullen to remove the smite, but he hesitated. Justice would not stand idle if there was a chance to kill templars-especially Meredith. He reached into his robes and pulled out the half finished healing potion and downed the rest.

He'd always known that Meredith was insane, but he hadn't known the extent. Bartrand was in a care facility, the best that Varric's money could buy. The man wasn't going to recover-and neither would Meredith.

"The Maker guides me in this!" she cried. She lifted her sword and pointed at at them. "You offend with your very existence. Blood mages and abominations abound in this city. Each time I look, your name is mentioned, Champion. I will cleanse this city, beginning with you and any you have corrupted."

"Stop!" Anders felt his eyes go wide when the First Enchanter came running out of the Gallows, his hands and staff raised. Behind him, mages came pouring out. "Do not do this thing, Meredith." He took a step back when she turned on him and he saw her eyes.

"You do not presume to tell me what to do, First Enchanter. Take your mages and return to your rooms."

In a surprising show of strength, he shook his head. "No. You can't kill innocent people. I won't allow it."

Meredith laughed and she swung her sword around towards him. "You won't allow it? Do you align yourself with the Champion then? I know you have met with her on several occasions. Maybe you would rather she run unchecked."

"Meredith," he pleaded, "this isn't you. That sword... I've always felt something wrong with it. I've told you that. You must relinquish it." Some of the more daring mages skirted around the templars and stood among Hawke and her friends. Anders wanted to tell them to run, to take the chance when it was offered and get away.

Meredith noticed it as well and she sneered at Orsino. "You leave me no choice. If you are not with me, then you are against me. I do not need the chantry's permission for it. I am the authority here and the Maker whispers to me."

Orsino shook his head and held out his hands in supplication. "Do no-"

"I call for the Right of Annulment! This circle shall be cleansed and the city with it!"

* * *

Fenris flew backwards as Meredith slammed her power into him. His side hit the remains of one of the living statues, and his breath left him in a rush. He pressed a hand to the ground and gasped for air. They couldn't keep this up. Without Anders to heal them, their group was fading fast. They'd had to go through templars and mages alike to get to Meredith. Some of the mages had turned to blood magic in their fright, changing into abominations that had scorched the courtyard as they died.

"Get up, Fenris." Merrill helped him get to his feet and shoved another health potion into his hand.

Aveline had come with the guard as soon as the first explosion had rocked the Gallows. No one had wanted to involve her in what they were doing, but she had come anyway. She was the last of the guard standing, and with her shield raised high against the monstrosity that Meredith had become, she looked like a hero in a chantry window come to life. She had become the buffer between Meredith and the others. Fenris was next in line and his sword kept the statues from getting to the others. Behind him, the mages and rogues stood. They were the support, and they threw everything they had at Meredith and the metal monsters she brought to life.

But they had no healer.

Anders had begged Cullen to recast the smite, before the templar had left with a group of his men to see to the safety of the mages that had stayed inside. If Fenris hadn't seen it for himself, he would have accused anyone that had told him of it of lying. The mage had feared what Justice would do if he was finally released, and no one wanted to try and contend with the spirit.

At least, not yet.

It also left Anders vulnerable, and without a healer, the others were reliant on other mages and healing potions. The other mages had either died or ran off a long time ago.

Fenris ripped the cork out of the flask with his teeth and drank the potion. An arrow flew by his shoulder and he turned to see the last of the statues rumbling towards him. The barbed tip of the arrow took a chunk out of the statue, but it kept coming. "Merrill!"

"On it!" A glyph shone under the statue and it froze in its tracks. Fenris shimmered, phasing between worlds as he lifted his sword and rushed towards the paralyzed statue. He gave a great cry and put his whole body into his swing. His sword bit deep and cut into the thing's neck, taking the head off.

Nathaniel had lectured him the night before on the necessity of keeping his rage in check. He'd cautioned him not to engage in battle if he could help it. Fenris had made his decision, though. He would protect Anders and the others, no matter what the cost.

He ducked as the statue swiped at him and he took one of its arms, chopping it off at the elbow. Battle-lust and adrenaline rushed through his veins and his world narrowed down. Everything slowed to a crawl and he knew what was happening. His movements became rote, his mind slipping away to only the sword in his hands and the enemy in front of him.

He didn't hear Merrill's voice calling to him until the statue was nothing but twisted metal at his feet. Everything came rushing back in. Sound and light grew as the world snapped back into place. He turned to see the others standing around a kneeling Meredith. The Knight-Commander was blackened and still as the statues that she's had fight for her.

* * *

Hawke stayed behind at the Gallows to help make some sort of sense of what had happened that day. Cullen had practically marched her inside while he called for a healer to come and evaluate her. Anders hadn't wanted to let her go, and he'd felt his gut clench in dread as he watched her walk inside the one place he had never wanted to see her go.

Half of the mages and knights had died. A quarter of the mages had ran. There would be ramifications from what had happened, but no one wanted to even think that far ahead yet. They needed to count and mourn the dead first. There was no question that Meredith was at fault for what what had transpired. Cullen assured them that he would launch an investigation, but he wasn't going to hold anyone but Meredith responsible. He seemed years older in just a span of a day. The weight of his new responsibilities were already showing in the lines on his brow.

Anders felt cravenly as he asked for one more smite from the man. He couldn't keep this up. Justice was going to reassert his place in Anders mind, and the mage was afraid of what would happen when he did. He needed to disappear again. Maybe take himself off before Justice knew that they were no longer in Kirkwall. A smite didn't last forever, but if he was quick, he could get himself far enough away before the spirit came back.

Nathaniel had other plans, though.

The second they disembarked, the man clapped a hand on Anders shoulder and steered him towards Lowtown. "Going somewhere?" he asked mildly. Anders would have balked if Fenris hadn't placed himself on his other side. The two of them were leading him towards the Hanged Man. He was exhausted, as he was sure they all were, but Anders hadn't eaten in days and a potion only took care of so much. Still, he tried to shake off the hand on his shoulder, only to have Fenris clamp down on his other one.

"I need to get to my clinic." Anders looked from one man to the other. "I've been gone for days. Who knows what state it's in."

"Is that why you were walking in the other direction?" Fenris asked. "Or is that a new route you take that I don't know about?" His lips twitched when Anders stomach gave off a large gurgle. "You need food and I've seen what you have to offer at the clinic. You always give it away."

Before he knew it, they were inside the Hanged Man and the room Nate had rented for his stay in Kirkwall. They pushed him down in a seat and stood before him, their arms crossed. Anders didn't like this united front thing the two of them were doing. He needed them to understand it was dangerous for him to be here.

"Not that I don't appreciate the whole rescue thing, but I can't stay here." He tried to get to his feet, only to have Nate push him back down again. "I _mean_ it," he gritted out. "I don't know what Justice is going to be like when my connection to the fade comes back. I can't be around people when he does. I shouldn't even be in this city."

"Good thing we won't be here long then," Nate said. "We're leaving first thing in the morning."

"No! You don't understand. I can't be around anyone." He grabbed at the hair on the back of his head and pulled in frustration. "These last few days without Justice in my thoughts... He's changed, Nate, I see that now. The things he wants me to do..."

"I can imagine," Nate said dryly. "He was never meant to survive as long as he has outside the fade. But we'll deal with that when it comes. I'm sorry, Anders, I have to take you back. The Warden-Commander is going to want to talk to you." His arms went slack at his sides. "I'll see about getting some food for all of us."

On his way out, he turned and looked at Fenris. "Tell him. It might make him change his mind."

Fenris could have killed Howe as the door shut behind him. "Tell me what?" His eyes jerked towards Anders and then moved away again.

"I'll be going with you."

"Excuse me?" Anders said. "You can't come with me. Why would you even want to? I mean, I know the danger and the darkspawn is attractive, but _I_ don't even want to go." As he spoke, Fenris pulled off his gauntlets. Anders' voice stuttered to a halt while he watched Fenris bare skin that he didn't often reveal. The elf reached up and undid the clasps that held his armor in place, baring his collarbone and chest.

"Andraste's tits!" Anders jumped to his feet and his hands hovered over Fenris' skin. Dark lines of sludge crept their way up the elf's body just under his flesh. They showed in stark relief against his lyrium brands. "Anders' hand began to shake. "How long?"

"Five days now. Howe thinks I will be able to make it to Vigil's Keep for the Joining," Fenris said softly. "He's told me I might not survive it, even if I get that far."

"He wasn't suppose to tell you that," Anders choked out. "Warden secrets and all."

"I know. But I am dead if I don't go." Fenris saw Anders' fingers twitch before they rested on the elf's chest. He traced the lines the taint was making and Fenris sucked in an imperceptible breath. Neither of them spoke and the logs crackled in the fireplace, the only other sound in the room besides their slow breaths.

Anders couldn't bear the thought that Fenris might die. This was different than going into battle. Fenris was deadly, one of the most skilled swordsman that Anders had ever seen. The Joining wasn't wasn't something you could protect yourself against. The darkspawn blood took indiscriminately. Anders had watched a woman he'd seen wade in darkspawn blood and come out the victor, drop dead from the Joining.

Anders still wasn't sure why he had survived.

When Fenris didn't stop his fingers' exploration, he pressed his palms fully on the elf's chest. he could feel the thudding of Fenris' heart and Anders' eyes flicked up and held his. Carefully, to give Fenris a chance to back away, Anders moved forward. His head tilted down and he stopped, their lips a hair's breadth from touching. Fenris' lips parted and his eyes became hooded. Anders could feel the elf's heart beating faster and he slid his palms up the column of Fenris' throat to rest his fingers on the back of his head. There were so many things he wanted to say to Fenris. The words clamored to get out and choked him into silence.

It was Fenris who closed the distance between, their lips coming together in a light kiss that just brushed along his skin. Anders sucked in a surprised breath through his nose. It was tentative tasting, the kiss more of a question than an answer.

The door creaked and Fenris pulled away, the spell broken. Anders reached out and made a small sound of denial in the back of his throat. The elf turned away and stood in front of the fire, his back to the door and Anders. Fenris' fingers were clumsy as they redid the clasps to his amour. He could smell food wafting through the room and heard the sound of plates being set down. He closed his eyes and willed his body to calm down. Blood roared in his ears and he felt lightheaded.

Several weeks ago he had confided to Isabela that he found the mage attractive. It was something he had said in a drunken haze, and only remembered it because the woman had not let it go. He turned his head just enough to look at Anders over his shoulder. He was digging into his food with the enthusiasm of the starving. He'd hated Isabela for her teasing. The thought of wanting a mage was abhorrent. But he wasn't the same person he was a week ago, and he was starting to see that the woman might have known something all along.

"I'll come, Nate," Anders said once be polished off his second bowl of stew. He pointed at the warden with his spoon. "I meant it, though, when I said I don't know what Justice will do. I only have a few hours left before my connection to the fade comes back."

"Then we leave the city," Fenris said as he turned, composed once more. "We stay the night on the Wounded Coast. Let the demon come."


	11. Chapter 11

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* * *

The pull of the fade on Fenris' brands jolted him from sleep. He rolled over in a crouch on his bedroll, his sword in his hands. They had made camp on the Wounded Coast and fallen into an exhausted sleep. Fenris could see the sun breaking over the horizon, signaling the dawn. He had slept far longer than he had wanted to, but the battles of the day before had dragged his body into a deeper sleep than usual. Anders had been the first to fall asleep, His ordeals in the Gallows coupled with the battle had sapped what little strength he'd had.

Fenris' eyes darted around the smoking remains of their fire and over the still forms of his companions. He slowly straightened and took a careful step towards Anders. The last time he and Justice had met, Fenris had accused him of being selfish. To Varric's horror, the elf had asked him if there was any justice in Anders giving up his humanity in order to serve their cause. He'd challenged it in a way that none of their friends had ever dared to do.

Justice had lunged for him, his hands curled like the claws on Fenris' gauntlets. Fenris had met him halfway, his hands grasping once more into Anders' coat. His brands flashed as he slammed Justice onto the ground and pinned him to the dirt.

" _I'm not afraid of you,_ " he'd hissed into the demon's face.

Justice's eyes had widened. " _I can hear the song in your skin._ " The look that he had given Fenris was one of such longing, that the elf was momentarily stunned. No one looked at him that way. But it wasn't Fenris himself that Justice was yearning for, and the elf had known it. He'd shifted on top of Justice and had felt the demon's arousal pressing into his backside. It had been Anders' very human reaction to Justice's inhuman need.

" _Then hear it one more time and go_ ," Fenris had demanded. He had lit up his markings again and the demon had given him a beatific smile before receding.

The kiss from the evening before still lingered on Fenris' lips. Fenris wasn't stupid, but he didn't know how to deal with whatever Anders wanted from him. Most people were afraid of him, or wanted him for what he represented-power. If he'd ever been wanted for himself, Fenris couldn't remember. In his darkest moments, he'd wondered if it had always been like this for him. Justice he could contend with. He only wanted Fenris' connection to the fade and the song he seemed to hear.

Howe held out hope that if Justice could go back to Vigil's Keep and see the people he once knew, maybe he could be persuaded to leave Anders without killing either one of them. Fenris held out for no such hope. The spirit was changing into the demon that Fenris called him. He was maddened and trying to take Anders down with him.

Fenris hadn't gone to Gallows to take Anders back, only to give him up to Justice.

As he passed by Nathaniel, Fenris kicked the man's backside and kept moving. Why the demon had never reacted this way towards Fenris' lyrium markings before, he didn't know. He was no expert when it came to the fade. He barely knew what his own markings could do. But they seemed to calm the demon, and Fenris was not above using it as an advantage when it came to dealing with him.

When he reached Anders side, he crouched down next to the man. Behind him, he could hear Howe getting up and pulling his boots on. Anders looked for all the world like he was sleeping. His chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. With more gentleness than Fenris had ever given himself credit for, he touched Anders' cheek with the tip of his claw covered finger. Several days growth of beard covered his jaw and Fenris' claw caught on some of the hairs.

Anders' eyes shot open and the whites filled with a blinding blue. He opened his mouth and screamed with rage, the sound overlaid with Justice's voice. Fenris stayed his ground as Justice sat up and turned maddened eyes towards Fenris. "You would take us away from here? You both would interfere? The Templar Queen is dead, but there is still so much work to be done."

"There is no more work to be done," Howe said from behind Fenris. He could hear the tension in the man's voice. "The Kirkwall circle has been cleansed of its corruption. It's time to go home, Justice."

"The circle still stands!" Justice pushed to his feet and Fenris stood with him. "To kill a hydra, one must strike at its heart, not cut off a head. Another will take her place. Already you have let Marian Hawke be dragged into the pit."

Fenris didn't understand why Howe was trying to reason with Justice. Maybe it was his past relationship with the demon that was coloring his perspective. Tension thrummed throughout Fenris' body. The anger of the taint that coursed through his bloodstream, made it difficult to listen to the two of them.

"Marian Hawke is not in the circle," Nathaniel assured him. "She's with the father of her child to make the Gallows a better place."

"There can be no compromise. There can be no quarter given," Justice raged. "I have given Anders the means to see that this is so. Soon the world will know that mages are not dumb cattle to be penned."

"What have you done?" Howe asked.

"What should have been done long ago. I will strike at the heart of the templars in each city I come to. Kirkwall is only the beginning." Fenris knew immediately what Justice was talking about, even if he didn't know the means.

Howe came to stand next to Fenris. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the man hadn't armed himself. _You're not his friend anymore_ , Fenris thought. _He won't hesitate to attack you._ The sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline of the Wounded Coast, reminded Fenris of the ride to the Gallows. He had steeled himself then-as he did now-to do what ever was necessary for the mage. He had been prepared to kill Anders if he had found him tranquil. He had said often enough, that he never wanted to live like that, and Fenris had been braced to give him his release.

"The heart?" Howe asked slowly. "I don't-"

"He means the chantry," Fenris supplied. "That is where the heart of the templar order is. They do little without the chantry's blessing."

Justice's lips curled. "Literally and figuratively. Take their heart, and they are nothing."

"Take their heart," Nathaniel breathed, "and they have no reason to keep the mages. That's..."

"Insane," Fenris said flatly.

"Are you judging me on what is insane, elf?" Justice turned his eyes on Fenris and he stiffened, his hands flexing around his sword. "You who sleeps with rotting corpses in a decaying mansion? Has your master come yet, or do you still wait for him to arrive at his leisure like a good dog?"

Fenris was on him the moment the last words crossed his lips. He'd dropped his sword and took Justice to the ground. He reared up and pulled back his fist, his eyes feral and one hand wrapped around Anders' hair. His fist jerked to a halt and he turned on Howe. "Let me go," he said evenly between his teeth. He felt Nathaniel's hand tighten on his forearm. "Let me go," he said again.

His markings flared brightly and he once more felt Anders' erection pressing insistently into him. He could feel the burn of it through their clothes, and his cock swelled with an answering heat. It was a deadly combination, the want and anger. He knew he wanted Anders. He wasn't going to lie to himself about that anymore. He just couldn't trust that the mage truly wanted him in return, or if it was Justice looking for what his brands could do.

"No. I will not have the two of you tear each other apart." He could feel Fenris vibrating with anger under his hand. "All of us are going to Vigil's Keep. Your time in Kirkwall is done, Justice. The Wardens have a prior arrangement with Anders. He is bound to us by oath and blood. Would you have him be foresworn as well as a murderer?

Fenris blinked and relaxed his body. He kept underestimating Howe's knowledge of how Justice worked. Fenris was well spoken, but when it came down to it, he didn't have the skills to actually talk to someone the way that others did. When he had been with Danarius, he had listened to the way the magisters spoke and the inflections of their voice. But he lacked the simple understanding of how to relate to another. He wasn't like Varric, who could look at a person and just _know_ what they were about. Even Merrill had a better understanding of what friendship was than he did.

Justice seemed to considered Nathaniel's words. The light in his eyes banked to a dim glow. "I have your word that Anders will not be harmed?"

"I would never harm him. There are still too few wardens in the world. He won't be killed or imprisoned. You have my word on that."

He scowled when Justice raised his eyebrows. "The word of a Howe?"

"It's all you'll get, Justice," Nate shot back. "If your mission is so important to you, then you'll let Anders come with us. Now that we know he's alive, the Warden-Commander won't stop sending people after him. Next time, it might not be a warden who is as amused as I am with his jokes."

"You never liked his jokes," Justice pointed out.

"I know," Nate said.

* * *

Anders stared out at the sea, his coat pulled tightly around him against the spray of the ocean. They had left a day later than planned-on a different ship. His lips quirked into a smile when he heard Isabela shouting at one of her crewmen, her language even more colorful than usual. They had taken too long at the Wounded Coast and missed their ship. Nathaniel had cursed the ship's captain and all his ancestors for taking his money and leaving them behind. Not that the man was there to hear it. The only one willing to take them on in such short notice had been Isabela. She had charged an outrageous sum, citing that ship space was at a premium with the city in such chaos. She'd also said that she'd give them free passage if Nathaniel wanted to share her cabin.

Nathaniel had paid.

Leaving Kirkwall had been bittersweet. The relief he felt at Justice allowing them to go was tempered with the realization that he was leaving his friends. Marian and Cullen were working on renewing their relationship, and Anders wasn't sure how he felt about it. Not that it was his place. He'd joked to her that she was going to become domesticated, a housewife that cooked dinners for her heroic, templar husband. She'd punched him in the arm for his troubles. Varric had promised he would keep an eye out for Hawke. They both knew that she couldn't seem to keep herself out of trouble for very long, and until Cullen learned this, she needed someone to have her back. Merrill had cried and made Anders promise to write her every single day. Aveline seemed relieved to see the back of him. They had only gotten along for Marian's sake. The Guard-Captain hadn't liked the danger that Anders represented to Hawke. He couldn't hate her for it, she was only looking out for a woman she thought of as a sister.

Cullen had come personally to deliver Anders staff and clothes. They had been left behind in storage at the Gallows. The two men had said little to each other, but their handshake and Cullen's thanks had been heartfelt.

They had been at sea for two days now and would stay there for a week more. Isabela's ship was fast, but it might not be fast enough. Anders closed his eyes and shut out the endless sea in front of him. Fenris hadn't left his bed since they'd raised sail. Anders knew that the elf was getting worse. It was taking all of his strength now to fight the taint. Nate's original estimation that he would be able to make it to the keep for the joining might have been optimistic.

_Fenris is strong, through. He survived what Danarius did to him. he can survive this._ Anders had to remind himself of that. Only Nathaniel had been allowed into the elf's cabin and he had been stubbornly silent when Anders had inquired after him. He slapped his hands down on the railing and sighed. He was a healer, for Maker's sake, but he could do nothing for Fenris. He'd even gone as far as to beg Justice for answers.

There was none to be had.

Justice seemed to be concerned as well and it caught Anders off guard. Something had happened between the two of them and Anders had only been able to get the barest details from the spirit.

_His flesh sings_ , had been his only reply.

When he'd come to himself on the Wounded Coast, it was to awaken hard and aching. In a quiet voice, he'd asked what had happened. He'd listened with only half a mind as Fenris' voice stole over him and said the words he'd wanted to hear. Justice wasn't going to fight them, they were going to Vigil's Keep. He'd shuddered then, in relief and need.

Maker that voice.

It had shot straight to his already hard cock and each beat of his heart made it throb. The plain linen robes were scratchy on his flushed skin and he bit back a moan as it rubbed against his prick. With his back to the other two, he'd muttered about needing the little boy's room and stumbled off towards a large rock that jutted from the sand. The moment that he turned the corner, his hands had begun to fumble with his robes. He'd hiked them up to his chest and held it up with his teeth. He had let out a muffled hiss as his hands had wrapped around his cock. Precum had already started to leak from the slit and he'd rubbed his thumb into it, smearing the slickness along the head. His back had braced against the rock and his hips had rocked into the tight circle of his fingers. He'd gasped, his balls already beginning to draw up tightly. He had thrown his head back and looked up into the stormy sky as he'd panted heavily through his nose. Each time his hips moved back, his thumb had swiped over the head and rubbed against the sensitive glans on the underside. After only a few strokes, his legs had begun to shake and his ass clenched with anticipation. He'd fought against the muffled groans that threatened to escape and had bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth. Jerking his hip wildly, he'd squeezed his cock and moaned Fenris' name. He'd shuddered against the rock and his eyes had slid shut as he came. Semen had splattered on the sandy ground and he'd squeezed his cock again, drawing the sensation out.

He had never been so hard in his life. He'd also never felt so disgusting. Jerking off while your friends were only a few feet away was nothing new. The circle had little in the way of privacy and growing up in a boy's dorm, one learned to ignore such things. This was different. Anders had never felt such a loss of control before. Well, not one he could remember. He was never aware of what Justice did or said with his body, and for that he was thankful for, or he use to be. He'd woken up to blood and death after Justice had taken over. He had awoken to pain and fear. He'd never regained consciousness and been slammed with such need.

Anders scrubbed his face with his hands and opened his eyes. _More sea. Yay._ He had to see Fenris and assess the elf's condition with his own eyes. Nate wasn't a healer. He was an archer that broke into keeps and shot things that tried to eat Anders full of arrows. He hadn't been healing Fenris for as long as Anders had.

_Your infatuation with the elf is ill advised,_ Justice said.

_Like agreeing to take a spirit as a roommate? I think we both know I seem to only do ill advised things._ Anders noticed that Justice wasn't trying to stop Anders, only warning him.

_His flesh sings._ Justice said, as if that explained everything. _We will go to him._

_Why do you keep saying that?_ Anders asked as he started towards Fenris' cabin. This wasn't the first time that Justice had said those cryptic words.

_His markings sing of the fade, and I am home._


	12. Chapter 12

---  
  
* * *

Fenris curled up on the thin mattress in his cabin. His threadbare blanket was wrapped tightly around his shivering form. The sway of the ship added to his dizziness and his shut his eyes against it. The corruption had spread up his neck and shoulders, the black sludge just under his skin caressed his jawline. The single lamp in the room had been extinguished days ago, and the only light was from the small porthole set in one wall. He no longer was able to tolerate anything but the dimmest of light-even that taxed him.

He was losing the fight with the taint.

The whispers of the darkspawn grew stronger with each passing hour. Howe had explained to him that he would hear them as a warden when they were close, and dream of them when they were not. What Fenris heard now was a calling. They clawed at his mind until he was unable to distinguish his own thoughts. They promised him oblivion if only he would come to them. At first, Fenris had been able to ignore the whispers, but as the days went on and his body began to weaken, he found that their offer was becoming tempting.

If he had felt a fraction like this when Danarius had given him his marks, then Fenris was glad for once that his mind had wiped it from memory. His skin no longer felt like his own and his arms had scratches on them where he had dug furrows with his fingernails. He could feel his heart pumping sluggishly as it pushed the taint through veins that were never meant to hold it. If he could have, Fenris would have snatched his own heart from his body to stop it from aiding the corruption.

He felt like he was going mad.

His drifting was interspersed with visits from Howe. He'd asked the warden to let no one else come to see him. He couldn't stand the thought of Isabela or Anders seeing him like this-so weak and pathetic.

He touched his lips and rubbed against the skin with his index finger. He could still taste Anders there and he closed his eyes, remembering. That memory had become the one thing that kept him grounded. He couldn't allow this to beat him, not when there were still so many things he had yet to do and say. Whatever it was in him that had made him strong enough to survive raw lyrium being inlaid into his skin, he would draw on that to fight this new intruder. When his resolve faltered, Fenris would close his eyes and call upon the feel of Anders' touch on his skin. That had been real. Not what the darkspawn were offering. Not the feeling that his skin belonged to another, and all he had to do was tear it off to feel whole again.

The latch on his door clicked and Fenris sat up in his bed. His blanket slid down his bare chest, revealing exactly how far gone he was. His olive skin was bleached grey and even his markings hadn't been immune to the taint's infiltration. Dark lines slashed through the white brands and distorted what had once been a beautiful, scrolling mimicry of the Dalish tattoos.

He shut his eyes against the light that would be let in once the door was open. Howe only visited him at night once they discovered Fenris' sensitivity. He wouldn't be coming unless it was something important. But it wasn't Howe's voice he heard when the door shut once more.

"Maker's sainted whores!" Anders had known that Fenris had to be in a bad way to go into seclusion like he had, but he hadn't prepared himself for how bad it actually was. What little light was in the room had given him enough of the view of the elf.

Fenris' eyes flew open. "Get out." Even his voice had changed. It had lost its rich cadence and become guttural and harsh. Anders forced himself to let go of the door handle and walked to the bed. It was just dark enough to see, but barely. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out more of the elf. What he had thought were shadows was only the taint, snaking up Fenris' chest and neck as if it meant to choke the life from him.

In a very real way it was.

Fenris turned his face away from Anders and his hands clenched at his blanket. he made no move to cover himself, giving the mage a good look. "I told you to leave."

"I..." Anders shook his head and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Maker, Fenris. why didn't you tell me?"

"And what should I have told you?" Fenris looked at Anders from the corner of his eyes. "That I might not make it to the keep? I've always known it was a possibility. I don't need your pity, mage." He had received pity from the others when they had found out Fenris was going with the wardens and why. Hawke had actually cried.

"Pity? Do you think I feel pity for you right now?" Anders choked. "That's... that's not what I'm feeling at all." He noticed the scratches on Fenris' arms. "Let me heal those." He lifted his hand when Fenris caught his wrist, arresting the action.

"No." They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Fenris' lips curled and he tightened his grip before flinging Anders' hand away. "Do as you like." He held out his arms and Anders couldn't help but notice the way Fenris' hands shook.

The healing spell, normally so soft and cooling, slammed into Fenris like a punch. He bit down on his tongue to keep the moan from his lips as his brands flashed in response. Suddenly, he felt all too much like he was in his own skin. The magic licked a line up his markings and settled in his groin. He jerked his arms away and wrapped them around his chest. He dropped his head down and let his hair shield his face, and the hunger that he knew Anders would see in his eyes.

_It sings..._

Anders abruptly cut off the flow of his spell and reared back. it was the brands. there was something about the lyrium brands that Justice liked. No... craved. Lyrium was said to be to be formed from the waters of the Fade. Was this what Justice meant when he said he could hear it singing?

_Why now?_ Anders asked. _I've healed Fenris so many times over the years, what has changed?_

_Part of him was always locked away, shutting in the greatest of the song with him. Something has changed in him, I can hear it clearer now than I could before._ Anders had never heard Justice speak this way before. The spirit sounded both exalted and saddened.

_You miss the Fade,_ he ventured.

_Always. More so when he is near._

Anders had always known that Justice had changed when the two of them had merged. Just as he'd always known that Justice missed his home. He had just never given it much thought. The spirit had seemed so determined that nothing would get in the way of their mission. Now, he was seeing something different in Justice. The spirit sounded more sure of himself than he had in a long time. All too often, Justice harangued at Anders about their goals for mage freedom. He berated the mage on his lack of dedication. This was more like the Justice that Anders remembered. This was more like the friend who had helped him when he had needed him most.

_The song has dulled,_ Justice informed him. _The taint is muffling the sound._

Whether it was Justice's reaction, or Anders own lust for the elf, he didn't know, but his cock was rapidly hardening. It reminded him of when he had awakened on the Wounded Coast. _This has happened before, hasn't it?_

_The elf knows of our desire._ Anders shuddered at the spirit's words. As if he were watching someone else-someone with no sense of self preservation-Anders touched Fenris' shoulder. His skin was cool under his fingertips, much colder than was normal. Fenris jerked back as if he was scalded, and maybe he had been.

"I don't know what game you are playing, but don't touch me, mage," Fenris hissed.

Anders' hand hovered over Fenris. "No game. I don-"

"No game?" Fenris lifted his eyes just enough so that Anders could see the hunger blazing in them. "I have little control over myself right now, mage. Yet you and your demon taunt me. Do you think me a fool?"

"No! Fenris, I meant to heal you, nothing more. Is it the taint? I've never heard of it reacting badly to magic. It usually doesn't react at all. Maybe if-"

He was cut off as Fenris lunged for him. Even sickened, the elf was quick, too fast for Anders to evade. He bore Anders down to the bed and pinned his hands to the mattress. He gasped as he felt as Fenris grind himself into Anders. He could feel the elf's erection through his small clothes, the only thing he was wearing.

Their faces were inches apart and Anders could see the dilation of the elf's pupils. "Your magic pulls at my brands. It feels like your hands are all over me, and in me." He slid one of his hands down Anders' arm and cupped his neck, his thumb and fingers on the mage's fluttering pulse points. He squeezed lightly in warning when Anders opened his mouth, and touched their foreheads together.

"I can only think that your demon is to blame. He wants something from me." Anders felt Justice stir as Fenris called him a demon for a second time.

"I didn't know," Anders whispered. His free hand twitched against the bed with the urge to touch the elf. He didn't dare. He knew that Fenris had lost control and Anders didn't know what he was capable of.

"Didn't you?" Fenris asked. His voice wasn't the velvet that Anders had always loved, but it still sent delicious shivers down his body. "You touch me and kiss me as if you care. We both know that is a lie. I can only assume that Justice has put you up to this. Do you often whore yourself out for him?"

His thumb hooked on the chain around Anders' neck and he drew out the amulet that marian had given him so long ago. "You wear this like you know what it means. Do you think to own me like Danarius did?"

"What are you talking about?" Anders didn't know what was happening. Fenris seemed like a wild animal, one that looked for any excuse to attack.

"Danarius use to use his magic in much the same way you are now. He would get me primed and ready for whatever bitch I was to service for his pleasure." He pressed down on Anders throat and the mage choked. "I won't be toyed with!"

"I'm not... I don't..." Anders had to make Fenris listen to him. The elf was dying, a second at a time and Anders couldn't stand to see him like this. He wanted to believe that Fenris would make it to Vigil's Keep. He needed to believe that he would survive the Joining. But if he didn't...

Dear, Maker. If he didn't...

Anders said the words that he had promised himself he never would. He revealed the secret he'd kept inside him for years. "I love you." He let Fenris see it then, his eyes and face naked and free from any artifice.

Fenris hissed between his teeth. "You lie." He tightened his grip around Anders' throat and the mage saw black spots dancing in his eyes. Inside, he could feel Justice's rage and he fought the spirit down in the same way he fought to breath.

"No... lie..." he gasped. "Fenris," he pleaded.

Fenris abruptly pushed away from Anders and turned his back on him. The set of his shoulders was stiff and unyielding. "Get out."

Anders rubbed at his throat and sent healing magic into himself on reflex. Fenris turned his head, his eyes angry slits. "GET OUT!"

He had pushed his luck and Anders knew it. He couldn't seem to scramble off the bed and flee the cabin fast enough. It was only when he literally ran into Isabela that he stopped and found himself across the ship.

"Shit, what in the void happened to you?" she asked as she steered him to a coiled rope and helped him to sit down.

Anders pulled the length of string he used to tie his hair back free. His golden hair swung down to his chin and he raked it back to tie it again. "Fenris," was all he said. It was all he needed to say.

"Getting worse." It wasn't a question. She knew as well as Anders did that there had to be only one reason for him to hide away in his cabin the way he was.

His fingers fumbled and tangled in the string. "Maker, what is the matter with me?" He felt Isabela put a hand on his and stopped the mess he was making with his hair. She gently took the tie from him and pulled his hair back herself.

"Other than you wanting him to core your apple bottom, I'd say there were a lot to chose from. You're going to have to be specific sweet cheeks." Her hands felt good in his hair and Anders realized just how much he had missed another person touching him so freely.

"That obvious?" Anders groaned.

"I know lust when I see it. I consider myself somewhat of an expert. It even sends shivers up _my_ spine when he gets all growly with you. With that strength of his, I bet he could easily throw you around a room and show you a good time." Anders knew what she was doing. She was trying to distract him from what was happening.

It only worked for so long.

The smile at her antics slipped off his lips and he buried his face in his hands, yanking his hair from her fingers. "We might have to kill him. You haven't seen him. The taint... he can barely control himself. Even if we make it, he might die from the Joining." He knew he wasn't suppose to tell her that, but he no longer cared about keeping warden secrets. Secrets are what had started this mess, and Anders was sick of them. "I can't... I just can't..."

Isabela knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms around him. "Listen to me," she said softly. "If we don't make it in time, then we'll do what needs to be done for him. He expects nothing less from us. Until that time, we still have hope." She laughed. "Listen to me! I'm beginning to sound like man-hands."

Anders snorted in a much needed laugh, then he sobered. "Tell me how much longer we have before we get to the keep."

"Three days if I push the men. They won't like it, but I'm sure all the warden gold we'll be getting will help." Anders lifted his head and blinked.

"In thanks for saving a promising new recruit for the Joining. What?" she said at his incredulous look. "Gold talks with sailors. I don't make up the rules, I only live by them."

"Now that, was a load of shit. You make up rules all the time." Calmer now, Anders took the string from her fingers and finished his hair.

"Only the fun ones."


	13. Chapter 13

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* * *

Fenris was floating. His world consisted of bright flashes of light punctuated with conversation he could only catch pieces of. He felt like he was underwater, where nothing seemed real and everything was so far away.

His life floated passed him like so much flotsam that he couldn't seem to completely grasp. Memories he had never seen before teased him with fragments of what had been. He heard a name that was not his own, and saw a red haired elven girl laughing, the sound disconnected with the movements of her lips.

He sank, the darkness below him beckoning with hollow promises of relief. If he looked up he could still see light. Scenes of a bustling port city gave way to swaying trees and a blue sky, and through it all, there was Anders. Fenris knew it was him from the scent alone, and the way his feathered pauldrons tickled his cheeks where he rested his too heavy head.

His limbs had ceased to follow his command before they had even left the ship. His mind could no longer process what was happening around him. Fenris knew he was missing something important, but he struggled to recall what.

It was so much simpler to drift.

"Nate... what..." Conversation, distant and indistinct, tried to penetrate Fenris' mind.

"Can't wait... ...the Joining..."

Something pressed against his lips and he tried to turn away. Harsh fingers grabbed at his cheeks and jaw, prying his mouth open. Foul liquid washed over his tongue, and he choked as he attempted once more to move away.

"You have... ...drink, damn you." Anders. It was Anders who spoke this time and Fenris obeyed, swallowing as the fluid rushed down his throat.

The voices in the deep screamed in fury and Fenris cried out with them. The world solidified and he came back to himself, gasping for breath. He saw Howe and Anders, along with Isabela and people he didn't know staring down at him. He opened his mouth to speak before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he fell backwards, his skull cracking on the stone floor beneath him. All of the muscles in his body seized and he began to convulse. He felt hands on him and his mouth was pried open again and something that tasted of leather was shoved in his mouth.

"Too late... ...Maker... ...too late..."

* * *

Anders sat in the Warden-Commander's office, his head in his hands. Fenris had lapsed into a coma hours ago, and nothing he or anyone else could do would rouse him. It had been a frantic rush from the City of Amaranthine to the keep. They had to pay out good coin for the fastest horses they could find on such short notice. Anders had ridden very little in his life, but he had gripped the barely conscious elf to him as he had urged the mount to faster speeds.

They had made it to the keep in six hours.

There had been no time for friendly-or unfriendly-reunions. Nate and Anders had carried Fenris straight inside the keep, the archer yelling for someone to come and bring them the Cup of Joining quickly.

Anders had ignored everything except getting Fenris to drink. The taint had pushed itself up the elf's face and into his eyes. Anders had screamed at Fenris to drink and he had pulled his lips apart roughly to force the liquid down him.

When Fenris took his first swallow, Anders had held his breath.

When his first seizure started, Anders knew despair.

He listened with half a mind as Nate told Aedan everything; from their first meeting in the Deep Roads to their flight from the ship. Aedan was an imposing figure as he sat behind his massive desk. His dark hair had more gray in it than Anders remembered, and he had lines streaking from the corners of his eyes and on his brow that hadn't been there before. The man was younger than Anders, but he looked like an older brother.

The blonde elf behind him didn't help with softening the man's image.

Zevran stood just behind Aedan's chair, his fingers lightly resting on the Warden-Commander's shoulder. He, at least, hadn't changed at all. If anything, the assassin's eyes had become sharper and they drilled into Anders when he looked up.

"And who is this Fenris?" Zevran asked. "The magisters don't let go of their property lightly." Every movement that Zevran made was as unconscious as it was practiced. He shrugged his shoulder in a way that said, 'I do not care,' when his eyes told a different story. He did it to disarm the unwary and unsuspecting.

Nate, who had been around the elf for far longer than Anders had, didn't answer. The question hadn't been for him anyway. Zevran guarded his warden with a zealousness that bordered on obsessive. Anything that even had the slightest reek of danger in the keep was taken care of quietly, and efficiently.

"Zev," Aedan chided, saving Anders from having to answer. "We don't even know if he's going to survive. Let's save our questions for when he can answer them." He directed his gaze towards Anders and the mage felt himself quail under it. He felt like he was back in the circle and had been caught by Enchanter Ellen with one of the new mages and his robes hiked up.

Aedan had that way about him.

"What am I to do with you, Anders?" he mused. "And Justice. We thought you both dead. Now I find out you've been in Kirkwall all this time. For all your talk of evading the reach of the circle, you went out of your way to find the city that is best known for being the most strict when it comes to their mages." He drummed his fingers on his desk.

"The Grey Wardens can't be seen as taking sides in a conflict. You know this, yet you both went to Kirkwall with the explicit purpose of," he raised an eyebrow and looked down his patrician nose at Anders. "What was it again?"

"To free the mages there of the tyranny of the Chantry," Anders mumbled. Saying it out loud to people that had known him before he and Justice had become one, was mortifying. What had once sounded so... right... now just seemed childish. He got now why Varric had always told him that the rebel mage persona wasn't going to end well.

"Ah, yes." Aedan slammed his fist down on the desk and an inkwell tipped over, gushing ink over partially written papers. "You should have come to me!"

"And done what? You were gone, and that damned templar you let into the keep was following me. They tried to take me!" Anders had several years of pent up resentment, and he was finally getting the chance to let it out on the person responsible.

"Don't make this my fault, Anders. Don't you dare. I would have come to get you if they had taken you out of the keep. No one comes here and steals one of _my_ men when my back is turned." Zevran's hand tightened on Aedan's shoulder in concern as the man's voice rose.

"I came back to a bunch of slaughtered templars, Justice gone, and what I thought was your dead body. You must think me such a fool. You both must."

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me!" Anders pushed to his feet and Aedan copied the movement, his chair scraping along the floor.

"Maybe it's because you think you're too slick by half." Aedan growled. "I trusted you both, I thought you had trusted me. I've had too much betrayal in my life, and I never expected it from the two of you."

Besides being the Warden-Commander and the Hero of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland was known for his temper. Right now, Anders was feeling its full force. He wasn't a scared circle mage anymore, and he wasn't going to back down. "Our decision had nothing to do with you. We made our choice."

He felt Justice pushing against his consciousness and he allowed it. He was getting perilously close to saying something that he would regret. He needed Aedan to listen to him, if for no other reason than to help Fenris.

"You would chasten a mage for wanting his freedom?" Justice asked. Aedan's eyes had gone wide and then narrowed. Seeing the spirit's eyes in Anders' face and the mage's lips move with another's voice, was disconcerting.

"I would chasten a mage that had made vows to stick by them," he replied. He fell back into old patterns in how he use to deal with the spirit. "Was your cause so much greater than the wardens', that you felt the need to flee like a thief in the night? Where was the justice when we mourned you?"

"I..." Justice faltered. "We had not thought-"

"That's right, you didn't. So I ask you what I asked Anders. What am I to do with you?" Aedan spread his hands helplessly.

"What you must." It was a vague answer, but it was all Aedan needed to know.

"Then once they are ready, you will confined to your quarters and the keep." Aedan straightened his tunic and sat back down, composing himself once more. "We need a healer. No one has been able to measure up to Anders since he left."

"And our cause?" Justice asked.

"We will come to that. Show me that you can be trusted again and I will aid you. I have the ear of the King of Ferelden. Give me a good reason, and I will bend it to your purpose." He exchanged a look with Nate. Howe had told him earlier of the plans he and Fenris had to separate Justice and Anders. Now that Aedan was seeing it for himself, he knew that there might not be another option.

The two of them were not sharing a body, but vying for control. If Justice won, than the fallout could be deadly for everyone around him.

Aedan didn't save the world from a blight, only to lose it to the chaos that Nate said Justice wanted.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading and being patient!
> 
> A/N:
> 
> My laptop decided to crap out. I'm borrowing another computer until I can fix it, so I might be a bit more sporadic than usual in posting. I'm just glad I back up everything I write.
> 
> Tell me if you still like the way this is headed. I have an end game planned out, but the boys are going to go on a few adventures first.  
  
---  
  
* * *

"Look, I don't know where you're getting this figure from, but this is outrageous!"

Anders sighed and dropped his head back to stare at the arches in the dining hall ceiling. The back of the chair he was sitting in was low, and he rolled his neck along it in exasperation. Isabela and Aedan had been at it all afternoon, and Anders was getting sick of listening to them go around and around.

"Easy. My ship made it to Amaranthine in record time. I've brought you back two wardens and another for the Joining. I deserve that coin for the selfless acts I've preformed." Isabela was perched on a table across the room. She leaned back on her hands and thrust her—admittedly- chest out for display. Aedan stood in front of her and scowled-unmoved.

"Doesn't she realize she's putting on a show for the wrong man?" Anders asked no one in particular.

"She is like me, always holding out hope." Zevran sat across from Anders. His daggers were lined up on the table in front of him, and he stopped sharpening one long enough to give Isabela a considering look. "Although I feel as if I should be jealous. Do you think I should be? If anything could tempt him away from men, it would be her... considerable charms."

"You're joking, right?" Anders gestured towards Aedan. "I don't think he's ever been with a woman. Either you're that good, or he genuinely isn't attracted to them."

"Oh, I'm that good." The elf gave Anders a sly smile, one that promised things that Anders could only dream of, and some things he couldn't. "If I weren't so devoted to my warden, and you to your Fenris, I would show you exactly how good I am."

The mention of Fenris sobered Anders instantly. Zevran noticed it and put his blade down carefully on the table. "Has there been no change?"

Anders let out a short bark of laughter, one that lacked any mirth. "As if you don't know. I doubt there is little here that you don't know about. I bet you could tell me the color of my smalls, and what I had for breakfast."

"Undyed cotton, and you had bacon and eggs, which you ate very little of. This tells me there has been no change to your Fenris' condition, and that you are now starting to neglect your own health. You did happen to bathe last night, which is a sign that any depression that you feel is only in its beginning stages. Your unshaven state is a matter of choice and has no bearing." Zevran flashed another flirtatious grin. "A personal choice I approve of, I like the rugged look on a man."

Anders self consciously rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. Zevran's ability to size up a man so quickly was a bit unnerving. "You're right, there's been no change. I've been forcing broth down his throat and moving him on the bed so he doesn't remain in one spot, but I can't do anything else for him. I feel..."

"Helpless?" Zevran ventured. "Like you are watching someone go to their fate and you are paralyzed to do anything about it. It makes you choke-the fear. It settles into your throat, and into the place where your heart should be." He idly picked up a dagger and tested the edge. Satisfied with its sharpness, he chose another one. "You promise yourself, 'Never again. Never again will I let him be in such a position as long as I draw breath.' It is what you promise yourself to help you get through it."

"Maker," Anders whispered. He felt Zevran's words like a punch in the gut. The elf knew exactly what Anders was going through. He'd felt the same way when Aedan went to do battle with the Archdemon. It also gave him insight as to why Zevran was so fanatically protective of the Warden-Commander.

Nate had told Anders that Zevran made sure that nothing touched Aedan. No assassins had ever made it through the doors of the keep. Those that threatened Aedan's place as Arl of Amaranthine and Warden-Commander, found themselves stripped of credibility. Everyone had secrets, and Zevran was the master of ferreting them out and exposing those that would harm what was his.

"Fine, take your blighted gold! I hope your crew gets the damned pox from the whores they buy with it!" Anders turned his head to see Aedan slap a large bag down on the table next to Isabela. Coins spilled out and scattered along the scarred wood.

"Too late," Isabela said as she scooped the money back into its pouch. "They'll probably be the ones spreading it. I don't dip into my own inkwell for a reason." The pouch disappeared down her shirt, and Anders was momentarily stunned that she could fit it in there with no sign of its existence.

"The woman has many talents," Zenran said, noting Anders look. "I can tell you with certainty that she has many deadly trinkets hidden about her person as well." He ran his eyes down Isabela's body. "Want to know where they are?"

"Giving away secrets, Zev?" Isabela admonished as she sauntered over to the table. "Or were you trying to make him blush. I doubt our dear Anders knows how to do that anymore."

Zevran threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed around the cavernous room, and Aedan looked up from a conversation with another warden to smile at it. "You accuse me of trying to scandalize the mage for my own amusement?"

"Never!" Isabela put her hands to her cheeks and gasped. "Speaking of scandalous, I hear you're monogamous now." She wagged her finger at the elf. "Now _that_ is scandalous. Virgins from here to the Anderfels must be crying into their pillow. What a waste of a perfectly fun elf."

"I'm still fun, my hedonistic friend. I just choose to put forth all my energies in having fun with one person." He picked up a cloth and began to polish the steel he had just sharpened

Anders got to his feet, unable to listen anymore. He was jealous of the assassin and what he had with Aedan. He could admit that to himself—if no one else. What he felt for Fenris was more than the ill advised attachment that Justice called it. It was also ill fated.

The things that Fenris had said to him on the ship had the tang of truth to them. Anders did idolize the Tevinter mages a little too much. Who else was a lonely and scared circle mage going to dream about? That is, if they weren't having nightmares about the Tranquil. Anders use to hoard everything he could about Tevinter. He would spend hours scouring the circle library for any mention of the Imperium that the chantry hadn't destroyed or altered. He use to think that those mages had known how to live. Everything the circles knew about magic and the Fade, was in thanks to them. When a mage had free reign to talk about and practice his craft, he was capable of so much good.

According to the chantry, they were also capable of so much evil.

Locked in the circle, Anders had never given much thought to the other side of the coin. Tevinter slavers were distant and beyond the safety of the tower. In hindsight, he knew that he had, in a way, led a sheltered life. He had never had to work for his bread, and was only starved if he was being punished. It was much the same for the life of a Tevinter slave. Anders remembered how the elven girl that Hawke had hired had acted for the first few months she was in service. She hadn't seen past Anders' robes, no matter how patched they were. It had been enough for her that he was a mage and therefore, her superior.

He needed Fenris to wake up.

Without a word he walked out of the dining hall. He took the steps up to the second floor two at a time. He had to apologize to Fenris and explain himself. Not that explanations had ever worked with the elf before.

_I need to admit to myself that this is a lost cause. What I feel for him is just my need to love something I can't have._ Maybe it was as basic as the need to get laid. He had been celibate for years, but when a younger warden in the infirmary had flirted with Anders yesterday morning, the mage had felt nothing. Never mind that there were _younger_ wardens in the keep now. Maker, some of the recruits had just been learning to shave the baby fine hair on their cheeks when the fifth blight happened.

It did no good to tell himself to forget what he felt for Fenris. There was no one else for Anders. He would gladly have the elf awake and whole, hating Anders for the rest of his life, than dead and gone.

How pathetic was that?

He counted the doors on his left until he came to the sixth one. Fenris had been in his endless sleep for three days now. Anders had rarely left his side unless it was to eat, or to attend to his new duties as head of the infirmary. The place was a mess and he was grateful for it. The work in getting it cleaned and stocked to his satisfaction, kept him from sinking into a deep depression—or running.

He was good at running; he'd done it his whole life. He'd changed, though. The merge with Justice had taught him that there were bigger things out in the world then him. He often thought that none of his friends in Kirkwall would have anything to do with him if they had known him before.

They wouldn't have even had the chance. He would have run the second he heard there were people looking for a Grey Warden apostate in Darktown. He never would have exposed himself by opening a clinic.

A _clinic_ for Maker's sake.

He had done good work there, and he could do as much good here.

_If we stay. We have only promised Cousland a short time,_ Justice reminded him—as if Anders could forget. Already he'd trapped Aedan no less than five times, and expounded on his thoughts on mage freedom. To his credit, the man hadn't looked entirely uninterested.

He opened the door and shut it behind him. Slipping off his coat, he draped it over the back of the only chair in the room and turned to look at Fenris.

Fenris looked back at him.

Ser Pounce-a-lot—older and fatter than Anders remembered him- was sprawled out on the elf's chest. Fenris' fingers were coiled in the cat's fur, and a low rumble reverberated through the room. The three of them stared at each other. One set of eyes were wide in shock, another set were filled with a smugness that came from knowing they the upper hand in surprising someone. The third pair were fine slits that were almost closed in self-indulgent pleasure.

It was Fenris who spoke first. "I take it this is your much beloved cat. You didn't mention how fat he was. I find it hard to believe he could have survived the Deep Roads."

"I…" Anders was at a loss for words. The last time he had been struck this dumb was when Marian had concocted her plan. He felt a pang of envy as the elf's fingers rubbed the cat behind its ear.

He was jealous—of a cat.

His brain caught up with what he was seeing and he let out a choked sound. His body began to move under his own commands and he rushed over to the bed. Fenris' eyes were clear and the skin on his face and neck were free from the taint. He wanted to reach out and rip the cat and blanket away from the elf to see for himself that the corruption had receded. His hands were a moment from doing exactly that when Fenris grasped him by the wrist.

"It is gone. I awoke only a short time ago to this monster of a feline on my chest and a cold nose in my ear." Fenris grimaced as if he could still feel it.

"You…" Anders breath came fast and hard, his chest rising and falling. "You…" He wouldn't cry in front of Fenris, that would be too much, but the tears that pricked the backs of his eyes had other ideas. He blinked rapidly and turned his head to stare at Pounce. He swallowed convulsively and sucked in a slow, shuddering breath.

"I-We didn't know if you were going to survive. How much do you remember?" There, he managed to sound halfway normal and not a blubbering ninny.

"Not much. I don't really recall the last few days on the ship or coming here. I remember drinking…something…and your voice." Speaking of voices, Fenris' was back to its velvety cadence. Anders closed his eyes and allowed it to wash over him. He hadn't been sure if he would ever hear it again.

"You had a seizure and went into a coma. That was three days ago. Nothing we could do would revive you. I…I didn't let anyone else touch you. I knew you would have hated that." Pounce pulled away from Fenris and nudged at Anders' hand. The cat had always known when a human just _needed_ to have a cat to pet.

"You took care of me alone?" Fenris asked delicately. They both knew what that meant. Anders had fed him, bathed him and cleaned him up like a child. Anders hadn't found any joy in being able to touch the elf so much. The reasons for it were wrong and he had known that if— _when-_ Fenris woke up, he would not have liked to know that others had seen him that way.

"I see," Fenris said when Anders gave him a short nod. "I…thank you for it. You had no reason to help me after the way I've treated you."

Anders lifted his head and looked at Fenris. He licked lips suddenly gone dry. Fenris was apologizing for more than the ship.

The elf gave Anders a self deprecating smile. "I owe you and Howe my life. Without either of you, I would be dead, or a ghoul. Neither of you had any obligation towards me, but you helped anyway."

When Fenris had awoken to a cat's nose and rumbling purr in his ear, he hadn't known where he was. He hadn't initially known who he was. Once the panic had faded, and he began to remember, Fenris had felt only relief and guilt; relief that he was alive when he shouldn't be once more, and guilt for the way he had treated the man who was responsible for it.

His hands and arms had felt like lead from the inactivity, but he had lifted them to sink his fingers into the cat's fur. He knew who the cat was. Anders had described the feline in loving detail enough times. As he stroked the cat, Fenris had thought about the things he had said to Anders over the years. They would never quite see eye to eye when it come to the difference between the Imperium and the rest of Thedas, but that hadn't meant he could devalue the mage as a person because of it.

It's what he had done for years, but the mage had helped him anyway. Anders had even professed to love him. It was something that Fenris could scarcely credit. In Tevinter, actions spoke louder than words. A master would say sweet things one moment, and then beat the slave he whispered to the next. A smart slave didn't fool themselves into thinking that the master still cared while their back was flayed open.

Fenris had been a smart slave. He just didn't know if he could trust that the mage knew his own mind. He also didn't know what he felt for the mage, but Anders had shown him a level of caring he hadn't deserved.

"I haven't been the kindest to you," Fenris began slowly. Anders snorted and he leveled a glare at the man. "I apologize for it." He reached out to rub the cat's back. Pounce rolled over and exposed his belly with a contented yawn.

"Well," Anders faltered. "I thank you."

They both sat in awkward silence, pretending that their hands weren't touching in the cat's fur.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reviewed and given kudos. Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed. Two updates this evening.

* * *

"Does he think I need more work or something?" Anders said as he watched another recruit go sailing down the practice yard. "I mean _really_ , this is getting ridiculous." He tilted his head to the side and watched in sympathy as said recruit wobbled to his feet.

For the past week, ever since Fenris had awakened, the elf had come to the practice yard every day. He was the first one there when the sun rose and the last one to leave, well past dusk. When the wardens and the recruits had seen the deceptively lanky elf walk into their midst, they had laughed. One of them had called Fenris delicate and too pretty to be there.

Fenris set out to dissuade them of that notion with a ruthlessness that bordered on coldblooded.

Anders had barely spoken to the elf since that day in Fenris' room. It was as if Fenris was going out of his way to avoid him. Anders found himself coming out to the wall walk near the infirmary when he had free time. It gave him a good view of the practice yard and the elf that was determined to exhaust himself.

Today he wasn't alone. Aedan braced his arms against the parapet in a parody of Anders' stance, and the men looked down to where a warden was approaching Fenris, a shield raised in challenge.

" _That_ will not end well," Aedan noted idly. "I've seen him shatter a shield before." They both winced as Fenris' first blow did exactly that.

"And now I'll have another broken arm to fix. The blight take him. Why is he doing this?" Anders shook his head in exasperation.

"I think the blight taking him is why he's doing this," Aedan pointed out. "The taint affects us all in a different way. Some of us become oversexed. Others become aggressive." He nodded towards the practice yard. "His mind will settle. Give it time."

"So you're just going to let this continue on?" Anders swept his arm in the elf's direction. "He won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone."

"He'll settle, Anders. I've seen this before. Besides, it's become a game to the other wardens and recruits now. They all want to be the one who can take him down."

Anders raised his eyebrows at his tone. "You're enjoying this!" he accused. "Look, you're smiling. I can't believe this. How much money do you stand to lose?"

The other man held his hands up. "Not me. Although the betting pool has gotten higher with each day he goes undefeated. Oghren is the one who thinks he knows who will take him down. I'm curious to see if he's right."

"Wait. Who?" Anders asked despite himself.

"Only person who could take that monster of an elf down," Oghren said as he walked up to them. He carried a wooden box and set it down next to Aedan. With a look that dared either of the humans to comment, he stood on the box to peer over the parapet.

Some things in this world were immutable. Anders had learned that Oghren the dwarf was one of them. He still stank, drank too much, and told the filthiest jokes that Anders had ever heard. His hair had changed over the years, becoming the strawberry blonde color that most redheads seemed to get with age.

"Am I late?"

Anders rolled his eyes at Isabela's voice. "Am I the only person that didn't get an invite to this party?

She patted him on the head like she was placating a petulant child. "But you're always here, honey bottom. Why invite the owner of the house?" She gave a small cheer as Fenris took down another opponent.

"You're not late. He's waiting for Fenris to finish with this last batch first." Aedan nodded his head towards one end of the practice yard, drawing everyone's attention.

"Maker…" Anders breathed.

Oghren chuckled. "Told ya. It takes a deadly elf to fight another." He rubbed his hands together as if they were already full of the coin he was about to win.

* * *

Fenris raked his sweat soaked hair from his face with his forearm as the warden he had defeated was led away, cradling his broken arm. He had been continuously fighting all morning and the sun was now high above him. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine and the slight burn in his muscles.

It wasn't enough.

Every day since that first morning when his new brothers-in-arms had decided to test his mettle-he came here. He had shown them what he was made of, and he continued to do so until he couldn't see straight and his body felt like rubber from his exertions.

He felt such anger that he couldn't seem to contain it. Forcing his body to work took his mind from it and gave his rage purpose. He fell into a deep sleep each night, unable to dwell on what he was feeling.

The fabled Grey Warden stamina was not a legend. Fenris could fight for far longer than he could before. Any injuries he sustained healed quicker than normal. Already stronger thanks to what Danarius had done to him, he was able to put more power into each swing of his sword. Keeping himself in check so he didn't kill anyone he was sparring against, gave him focus.

He rolled his neck on his shoulders and looked around. Those that normally gathered to watch and participate had gone suddenly quiet. He spotted why instantly.

Zevran strolled through the crowd and towards the middle of the practice yard. His hair was tied back and off his neck. Shirtless, his golden skin was bared to the sun. He stopped a few feet in front of Fenris, and placed his hands on the wicked looking pair of daggers strapped to his leather clad hips.

His stance was casual, but the assessing look in his eyes was anything but. "Shall we dance?" He raked his eyes up and down Fenris' body in a move that was deliberately provocative.

Fenris shifted his weight and planted his feet firmer into the ground. "I won't hurt you. The Commander wouldn't like it."

"No. He was most unhappy with me when I told him I was coming." Zevran laughed and began to circle Fenris. He turned his head to keep the other elf in his sight. "But not because you'll hurt me."

Zevran moved around Fenris, his limbs languid. Fenris knew what the other elf was doing. He wanted Fenris to relax enough to drop his stance before his first strike. He decided to oblige him and lowered his sword in the appearance of imprudence.

When Zevran came for him, Fenris was ready.

* * *

"Zev has become as tired of watching Fenris exhaust himself on the wardens of the keep as you have," Aedan explained as they watched the two clash below. "He seems to think it's more than the taint that's driving him."

Anders clutched the stone under his hands and felt it bite into his flesh. "This is a bad idea. Zevran doesn't know Fenris."

"I agree with you," Aedan shrugged. "But he knows people. If he says it's more than the taint, then I have to give him the benefit of the doubt." Anders notice that for all his casual tone, Aedan's knuckles were just as white as his was.

Down below, Zevran had taken to darting in and out of the range of Fenris' sword. It was easy to tell that he was trying to tire Fenris out so he would make a mistake. Fenris seemed to realize this too, and each swing became more focused as he attempted to anticipate where Zevran was going to come at him next, instead of slashing out to where he was.

"Oh. This is delicious," Isabela purred. "All that dangerous elf with sweat dripping over those fine muscles. " She shivered. "When do you think that the blood lust will turn into real lust? And do you think they'll let me watch that too?"

"Don't you have a ship to get back to," Anders snapped.

"I've already told you, as long as it keeps being interesting here, I'm staying. My crew are having a blast spending Aedan's gold. I don't need to be anywhere just yet." She craned her neck to get a better look at the fight. "And it just got _very_ interesting."

Anders followed her gaze and felt his eyes grow wide. "What in the void is he doing?"

"Evening the odds, I'd say." Oghren grinned and rubbed his hands again.

* * *

When the last of Fenris' armor hit the ground and sent a small cloud of dust up, he ripped off his tunic and tossed it aside as well. If Zevran was looking to tire him out, then Fenris would do as the assassin did and forego his armor. A slight breeze blew through the yard cooling his sweat slicked flesh, and his skin prickled.

Zevran waited patiently. "If I had known fighting you would get you out of your clothes, I would have done it days ago. But my loss is now everyone's gain, yes?"

"No." Fenris kicked his armor out of the way and settle once more into a guarded stance. "Do you ever stop prattling?"

"Why should I? I'm such an interesting elf." Zevran flashed a grin and flew towards him. Fenris had just enough time to bring his sword up to block both of Zevran's daggers as they came for his heart. Steel ran against steel in a teeth clenching screech. Fenris narrowed his eyes as the assassin leaned in close, his tongue darting out to lick at Fenris' ear.

"Did he just lick his ear?" Anders asked incredulously. "I did see that, right? What game is he playing?"

It was Aedan who answered. "The game of life and death. Zevran is a trained assassin. They don't fight the way that you and I are use to. They defeat a person's mind first."

"I can't let him do this." Anders turned but was stopped when a large hand grabbed him by the upper arm.

"You can and you will. As he is now, he's a liability. I wanted to wait for the Joining to settle, but Zevran thinks that Fenris will get a lot of people killed if he isn't checked. You're a warden, you know the risks." Aedan let him go when Anders looked away to turn back to the fight.

"If something happens to him," Anders warned, "I won't forgive you." He felt more than heard Justice's agreement.

"I know."

Fenris pushed Zevran back and wiped his ear furiously with his shoulder. "You're disgusting," he snarled.

"Am I?" Zevran ducked Fenris' sword and rolled to his feet in one graceful movement. "More disgusting than your former master?"

Fenris let out a sound of rage and swung again, this time it was more uncoordinated. "You will hold your tongue!"

"I'm sorry." Zevran sounded anything but. "I was just wondering. One hears so many stories of the magisters and their… proclivities." He moved out of the way of another wild strike. "I know your master yet lives. Does he know where you are?"

Fenris screamed in anger and rushed at the other elf, his eyes wild. Zevran was able to sidestep the charge, and his foot lashed out to connect with the small of Fenris' back, knocking him to the ground. He got to his hands and knees, panting as he pushed himself to his feet.

The assassin continued his relentless questioning. "Do you think he'll come for you? I'm sure all that lyrium was expensive. I know I would, if I owned such a slave."

"I am not a slave!" Fenris cried. He dropped his sword as his brands flared. He was on Zevran, quicker than anything than the other elf had ever seen. His own weapons fell from his hands as Fenris took him to the ground.

Pain seared trough Zevran and he looked down to see Fenris' hand in his chest. He could feel his fingers wrapped around his heart. Fenris drew in close and hissed in his face. "No one calls me that."

Through the pain, Zevran could hear the shocked cries of the other wardens and Aedan's scream of fury. "Then," he gasped out. "Do not… act like… one…"

"Do not presume to know me," Fenris whispered, his voice laced with deadly intent.

"Do not… presume to know… me." Zevran was having a hard time making his words comprehensible. "I had masters… once…killed them all…"

Fenris jerked his hand out of Zevran's body. The blonde elf gasped and clutched at his chest, assuring himself that there was no hole where his heart should be. He had known the risks in pushing Fenris as far as he did. But he had seen no other way. Fenris needed to see through his anger and realize that there were others out there that had gone through he same thing. He needed to see that there were others that had come out of it alive and whole.

The Joining did strange things to people. It could bring out the worst, or the best in them. He had seen men go insane, even if they did survive the Joining. He didn't know why it chose the ones it did, just as he didn't know why some survived and others didn't.

What he _did_ know, was what it was like for a Tevinter slave. Zevran had been there many times over the years. The magisters weren't above using a silent blade in the dark if it meant getting rid of a rival. It had only been Zevran's status as a Crow that had prevented them from trying to enslave him once his jobs were complete.

He also knew that most of the magisters were insane. They were drunk with their own power and stories of Tevinter's days of glory. Fenris was proof of that. Only a mad man would think to inlay pure lyrium into another's flesh.

He couldn't say he wasn't entirely self serving when it came to helping Fenris. If a magister would send his apprentice to Kirkwall after the elf, then he would come to Aramanthine. He needed to know that the other elf could do what needed to be done if that happened. He had to assess for himself that Fenris wasn't going to bring down danger on Aedan.

Fenris' hands clutched convulsively into the dirt. He turned his head away from Zevran. "I apologize," he rasped. "I forget that you use to be a Crow. Even Tevinter slaves have heard of them."

Boots pounded on the ground and Fenris looked up in time to see a fist flying towards him. It connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling back onto the ground. Aedan loomed over him, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Get him back to his room, Anders. Or so help me, powers or no, I'll snap his fucking neck." He let Zevran run a reassuring hand down his arm when the assassin got to his feet, but his furious expression didn't change. He rounded on his lover and gripped him by the shoulders.

"I told you not to do this, damn you. Why don't you ever listen to me?" He shook the elf slightly and Zevran didn't fight it. "Stupid fucking asshole, he could have killed you. Do you have any idea of what that does to me?" His voice broke, heedless of their audience.

Isabela and Anders helped Fenris to his feet and urged him back towards the keep. The other wardens had scattered at Aedan's first enraged bellow. None of them had wanted to be in his way.

Isabela glanced back at them with a wistful sigh. "Anger sex. Damn, I wish I could see that."


	16. Chapter 16

Fenris sat down his bed, his head in his hands. Anders gave nodded to Isabela in thanks before quietly shutting the door to the elf's room. He stared at Fenris in silence as he tried to find the right words.

"Mind telling me what that was all about?" Anders gave a mental wince. That wasn't exactly tactful.

Fenris dropped his hands and looked up. His eyes were filled with more pain than Anders had ever seen in them before. Fenris never allowed others to see any weakness in him. Anders thought it was ingrained in him as a slave. Dragging out what Fenris was really feeling was harder than prying liquor from Oghren's hands. He was also hard to read. Not that Anders was any sort of expert, not the way Zevran or Varric was.

"What if he's right?" Fenris asked. "What if Danarius comes here?"

"Would that be such a bad thing? Better he come here than finding you in Kirkwall in that mansion of yours." Anders laughed and tried for levity. "Or what if he found you at the Hanged Man while we were playing Wicked Grace. Can you imagine that? Varric would have to give up his deposit."

"This is no joking matter," Fenris snapped and got to his feet. He started to pace the room, his fingers tapping on his thigh in a broken rhythm. "What if this is all there is?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" Anders took Fenris' spot on the elf's bed. He had a feeling he knew where this weas going and that he wasn't going to like it.

Fenris stopped and threw his hands up to encompass the room. "This! I spent years waiting for Danarius to come to me and he never did. I killed that bitch of his and yet he still did not come. And now…" He began to pace again. "Now he no longer knows where I am."

"If he doesn't know where you are, then you're safe. Shouldn't you be happy about it?" Anders offered. He knew it had been the wrong thing to say when Fenris stuttered to a halt and turned angry eyes on him.

"Safe? I'll never be safe until the bastard is dead. My sister will never be safe." Fenris clenched his hands at his sides. "Not until I have his heart in my hands." His fingers twitched as if he could already feel the organ between his fingers.

Anders sucked in a breath. "You did believe Hadriana."

"Yes." Fenris pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Before we left, I had found her and sent her money to come to Kirkwall. I wrote to Hawke a few days ago to ask that she send her on to Aramanthine. I can protect her here." Writing that letter had been humiliating. His handwriting had looked like childish scrawl and he hoped that it was comprehensible enough for Hawke to understand his need.

"Isn't that good news?" Anders stood and crossed the room towards the elf. "Fenris, talk to me," he pleaded.

Fenris shook his head. "You don't understand. You've always known who you were. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she tells me about myself and it turns out…" He stopped, unable to continue the thought.

"You're afraid," Anders whispered as understanding dawned. "You're afraid of what you'll find out about yourself."

Fenris touched at the brands on his arms lightly. "I did not lose everything when I was given these. I could walk and speak. I knew how to use a cup and fork. My life-who I was and where I came from-all that was gone." He dropped his hands and they hung limply.

"Do you know what kind of slave can fight?" He didn't wait for Anders to respond. "They are the most prized and the most reviled. A fighting slave that can act as a bodyguard are born and bred for their brutality. They are at the top of the pack in a slave hierarchy. Who cares about a kitchen slave when they can be replaced at little to no cost. A slave that will fight to the death for you and do it well…" Fenris shrugged. "They cost time and money that can never be brought back."

"What are you saying?" Anders said softly.

Fenris let out a bitter laugh. "I have always been able to wield a sword. Only the most loyal of slaves are given that privilege. I don't remember learning how."

"Fenris…"

Anders reached out to touch him, but the elf moved out of the way. "Don't touch me." He sat back down on the bed and rested his forearms on his thighs, his hands dangling around his knees.

"I've seen fighting slaves murder and rape on their master's command." He looked at his hands as if he could see the blood staining them. "What if I am as much of a monster as they were?"

"You're not—" Anders began.

"How do you know!" Fenris cried. "I certainly don't. I had thought when I saw Hadriana she would give me some clue as to what I was before. But she only gave me my sister. My sister who did not look for me. I never saw her when I was with Danarius. If she was free, why didn't she come for me? I can only conclude that she did not wish to see me."

Anders knelt in front of Fenris and took the elf's hands in his own. He held onto them tightly when Fenris tried to pull away. He could feel the calluses that had been built up from a lifetime with a sword. "If she comes, then you have your answer. You'll have all your answers."

Fenris lifted his eyes and gazed at Anders from under his lashes. "I don't understand why you want to think the best of me. You say these things to me and I want to believe them."

"You think you dislike me now?" Anders chuckled. "You should have known me when I was here, or in the circle. Hawke never would have found me in a clinic. I would have been at the Rose, spending all my coin. She would have had to drag me kicking and screaming to the Deep Roads. People change, Fenris. No matter who you were before, I know who you are now."

He touched the elf's cheek. "I lo—"

"Stop!" Fenris turned his head away. "Stop saying these things to me. Stop touching me. Just…stop."

 _He doesn't understand_ , Justice said quietly.

Anders hesitated a few heartbeats before leaning in close. "No. You're not alone in this Fenris. I meant what I said on the ship. And I mean it now. You choosing to believe in my sincerity or not is up to you. I know what I feel. I know what I've always felt." His warm breath moved over the soft hair falling around Fenris' face.

"You're a brave man. You befriended and defended Hawke even though she was a mage. You pulled yourself out of slavery and went out into the unknown on your own. You know what it's like to have your life dictated for you and you strove to rise above it. Maker, Fenris. What Danarius did to you should have killed you. The taint should have killed you."

The world shifted and Anders found himself on the bed and on his back. Fenris loomed over him, his hands clutching Anders' upper arms. They stared at each other, both of them panting through parted lips. Anders nervously licked his lips and green eyes shot down to them.

"It's not you that wants me. We both know it's your demon." Fenris tightened his fingers on Anders and the mage knew he would have bruises from them. "Danarius dangles a carrot in front of me once again, and the man isn't even here."

"That's not true," Anders said quickly. "I know what I feel. This has nothing to do with your brands."

"Do you?" Fenris mused. He glanced up at Anders and his markings flared. Justice let out a contented sigh and Anders felt his cock surge to life. Fenris lowered his body and put more of his weight on the mage. Anders robes hiked up around his thighs as he spread his legs to make room.

"Is this really you?" Fenris hissed in his ear as he ground into the man below him. His prick ached as it was pressed between his own body and Anders.

"Yes…" Anders groaned. His eyes slid shut and he arched his neck as the elf nipped at the flesh there.

"Do you think about me when he's not whispering to you? Do you get as hard as you are now?" Fenris' voice had become velvet over steel. The sound reverberated down Anders body, and he found himself pushing back against the elf, his hips rolling.

"All the time," Anders admitted freely as he became utterly shameless. "All the blighted time."

"Tell me," Fenris demanded as he worried at the skin of Anders throat with his lips and teeth. "Do you think about this?" He pushed at the hem of Anders' robes, shoving them up his body. His nails scratched down the mage's side, and his palm soothed the stings on the return trip.

"Oh, Maker." Anders writhed as Fenris did it again. A sharp pain followed by a soft caress.

"Tell me, Anders. Or did you think of simpler things?" Fenris was rutting into Anders now. Their cocks rubbed against each other through their layers of clothing. It hurt a little bit, the feeling of his smallclothes rubbing dryly over his prick.

"Did you think of my cock in your ass?" They were both panting heavily and Fenris' voice had become husky. "Did you dream of bending over for me and spreading your own ass wide?" Anders let out a needy whimper that he didn't recognize as his own. The images that Fenris was painting flashed through his mind.

"Or how I would shove my fingers in you and make you beg for it? I _would_ make you beg for it, mage. I'd make your body my plaything until you couldn't think anymore." The bed creaked under them and Fenris shoved harder against Anders, his pace picking up.

"All those things," Anders moaned. "All of it." He was going to come. Fenris' voice saying the things that Anders had always wanted to hear him saying, coupled with the pressure against his needy cock, was too much. Fenris was over him and all around him, turning Anders into a mindless, writhing creature. He was relentless, pushing Anders towards climax in the same way Anders pushed him into admitting his fears.

"Maker," Fenris gasped. Anders wrapped his arms around the elf and pulled him close, like he was trying to crawl inside him. Anders legs trembled as the muscles in his thighs clenched in anticipation.

Their lips met in a harsh and sloppy kiss, and Fenris' tongue dipped into Anders mouth. Anders hands scrambled for purchase on Fenris' back. He could feel the slightly raised lines of the lyrium brands on the elf's skin.

He broke the kiss and threw his head back, pressing the back of his skull into the mattress. Anders cried out, his mouth parting as he came. He forced his eyes open. He wanted to—no needed to—see Fenris as he came undone. The elf held himself under such tight control, only letting loose when he was angry.

Fenris' lips peeled back from gritted teeth and he hissed out a string of incomprehensible words in Arcanum. He pushed against Anders once last time, the muscles in his arms shaking as his body strained towards and found release. He gasped out Anders name and the mage clutched Fenris tighter. He collapsed and pressed his face into Anders neck, hiding himself from him.

Anders stared at the ceiling as they lay there, panting. His heart slowed down and the roaring in his ears dimmed. He swallowed a few times before he could speak. "I…"

Fenris tightened his hold on Anders and muttered into his neck. "Don't. Don't make a joke."

Anders lips twitched in a small smile, but he remained silent.


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

Fenris tangled his fingers in Anders' hair, and pulled the blonde strands free from their tie. He didn't want to think of magisters, spirits and sisters. His limbs felt languid in a way that he hadn't been able to achieve in his days on the practice yard. His mind was blessedly free of thought, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting Anders' scent filled his senses.

He'd never been good at talking about his feelings unless a copious amount of alcohol was involved, or he was angry. Hawke had a talent of pulling things from him, but that was just her and the way she had about people.

Anders was right when he said that he had helped and defended Hawke, even though she was a mage. Fenris knew that there were mages out in the world that weren't power hungry magisters. They were just people that lived and loved like anyone else. He lightly grazed his lips against Anders' neck and felt him shiver in response.

It didn't take a seer to tell Fenris that the road Anders was going down would lead to nothing but the mage's downfall. Fenris hadn't wanted anything to do with him and the ruin he would bring down on himself and those around him. He hadn't thought Anders was worth saving the way that Hawke did.

Fenris knew differently now.

He pushed himself up so he was resting his weight on his forearm. His other hand stroked down Anders' cheek. They couldn't stay like this forever. Already, the cooling semen against his skin and in his clothes was a disgusting reminder of reality. Anders had to return to the infirmary before someone was sent searching for him, and Fenris had to retrieve his armor. He also had to make his apologies to Aedan and Zevran before the human was left to stew any longer.

"I…" Fenris cleared his throat and tried again. "I care for you, Anders." He resisted the urge to look away when Anders' gaze shot to his. "Just give me time. I can't promise anything. Not yet. Not as I am now." The old Fenris, the one that had told Hawke she was nursing a viper, would have turned his back on him in disgust, or accused Anders of using blood magic to twist his thoughts.

But Zevran was right. Fenris needed to stop acting like a slave. A free man didn't hesitate when he wanted something. He went after it. When it was freely offered… Fenris would be a fool to turn down what Anders was giving him.

Anders gave him a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I've waited this long." He pulled down Fenris for a kiss that left them gasping when the elf moved back.

Fenris could feel himself hardening again, and he gazed at Anders from hooded eyes. He slid down along the mage, and pushed his robes up pass his chest. Anders moaned as Fenris left teasing kisses over his chest and ribs that were a little too pronounced. Fenris dragged his fingernails across Anders' skin, and the mage jerked with a groan when one nail caught and scraped along his nipple.

"Come with us," Anders moaned. "When Justice and I leave. Come with us."

The elf froze and slowly lifted his head. "And where would we go?" he asked carefully. He placed his palm over Anders heart, and felt the thudding of the organ.

Anders levered himself up on his hands and peered down at Fenris. "Somewhere we're needed. Not Ferelden or the Free Marches. We can't help the circles there. But there are other places we could go."

"When were you planning on leaving?" Fenris willed himself to think. His cock was full and ready, his body primed even after he had just climaxed. He trained his eyes on Anders and licked a path down the mage's chest, his tongue darting into his navel and nipping at the flesh there.

"In a month. The—ugh—infirmary should be ready by then." Anders lifted his hips to help Fenris pull down his smallclothes and take his boots off. "We can—Maker, save me—wait for your sister." The mage dropped his head back and spread his legs as Fenris smoothed his palms up his inner thighs. Maker bless Grey Warden stamina.

Fenris settled between Anders legs and hooked his knees over his shoulders. He turned his head and bit down on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, pulling back slightly until Anders was whimpering before letting go.

"Let me think on it," Fenris murmured, eyeing Anders' cock. The mage's prick was practically vibrating with anticipation. The head peaked out from its foreskin, and a bead of precum formed and slipped down his length. Without warning, Fenris caught it before it could disappear into tight blonde curls and followed its path back up.

"Andraste's blessed ass," Anders shouted. His arms were trembling and he almost fell back on the bed. He looked down his heaving body to see Fenris place a kiss on the tip of his penis. His furtive imaginings hadn't even come close to the reality of having Fenris— _Fenris_ —right there, right _fucking_ there.

He'd died. He'd died and the Maker had decided that since Anders hadn't _actually_ blown up his house, that the mage deserved a reward. The Maker was good in his wisdom. Praise him and his golden glory.

Fenris moved away and Anders reached out for him. An undignified sound escaped his lips, but he was well pass caring. The elf ignored him and unlaced his pants. He pushed them down his hips, and Anders let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He'd seen Fenris naked before, when he had cared for him after his Joining. This was so much better. The look Fenris was giving Anders just under his lashes was predatory.

He didn't give Anders more than a moment to look his fill before he was on the bed again, crushing Anders mouth to his own. He devoured the mage's mouth, forcing it open wider as he thrust his tongue inside. Their hands met and tangled as they pulled and tore at Anders' clothing, moving away only to dispense with the last of it. When they came together again, bare skin finally touching, they both hissed in a quick breath.

Fenris carded his fingers in Anders hair and yanked the mage's head back sharply. His gaze bore into Anders and he could do nothing but lay there, his mouth open and gasping for breath. Fenris traced his fingers over Anders' kiss swollen lips.

"Your mouth has always been a torment," he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers between the mage's lips. "I've wondered what I would need to do to shut you up." He made a guttural sound of approval as Anders curled his tongue around the questing digits.

Fenris leaned in close and whispered into Anders' ear before running his tongue along it. "Shall I find out? Should I shove my cock pass those lips of yours, and give your mouth something else to do?" He leaned back and pushed Anders flat on the mattress with one hand on his chest.

He pulled his fingers free with a lewd pop and Anders groaned. "Fuck yes, please." Fenris climbed on top of Anders and straddled the mage's chest. He braced one hand on the wall next to the bed, and gripped the base of his cock with the other.

His prick was already leaking freely in his excitement, and he rubbed the head along Anders' lips, painting them with precum. Anders tilted his head back, his tongue darting out to swipe at the elf's cock. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Fenris pushed his cock into Anders mouth.

Once the head was pass Anders' lips, he let his teeth graze just slightly along Fenris' shaft. He felt the elf shudder above him and smiled around the cock in his mouth. Anders relaxed and swallowed, his throat muscles rippling along Fenris' prick. The elf cursed in Arcanum and his hand slipped off the wall to wrap once more in Anders' hair.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth. Can you handle that?" Fenris rasped. When Anders slid his hands up Fenris' back in a reassuring caress, the elf began to move his hips. He pulled almost all the way out, and Anders tongue curled around him the same way it had with Fenris' fingers. He gave a few shallow strokes before going all the way back in to the hilt. His fingers tightened in Anders' hair, and his nails scraped along his scalp.

They fell into a rhythm. With each retreat, Anders would move his tongue and lips over him. With each entry, he would swallow, breathing shallowly through his nose. He could taste the climax from earlier on Fenris and he greedily licked at the flesh, cleansing it.

His own cock was neglected and his hips rolled, humping the air. Fenris turned his head at the movement and pulled his cock free. Anders' tongue chased after it, and his hands scrabbled for the elf when he moved away.

Fenris urged Anders onto his side and lifted the mage's leg. He mirrored Anders' position, and laid on his side, his cock inches from Anders' lips once more. Fenris rubbed his hands over the mage's backside, squeezing.

Anders could barely think straight. He was all sensation. Fenris was nuzzling the juncture where his thigh and groin met and Anders felt his cock jump, throbbing in time with each heartbeat. He opened his mouth and let Fenris' prick slide back in, and let out a muffled yell when he felt the elf licking a path from his balls to his ass.

They curled around each other, the only sounds the occasional moan and the wet suction of Anders lips. He felt a tongue lave at his entrance as Fenris pried his ass cheeks apart to gain better access. His prick was trapped between his stomach and Fenris' chest, and Anders ground it into the elf.

Fenris' taste on his tongue, the elf's tongue in his ass, darting in deeper each time it entered, had Anders mindless. He became this writhing, panting thing, where the needs of the flesh were greater than all. When Fenris wiggled a finger into his ass, Anders almost lost it right then, his balls drawing up tight.

When Fenris finally sank down on Anders' prick, taking the whole thing in one swallow, Anders started reciting the canticles. As much as he wanted to come, he didn't want this to end. He teetered on the brink of orgasm, where everything narrowed down to that place between his legs. His whole body-his whole being-felt like it was being pulled out of his cock and into the tight, wet warmth of Fenris' mouth. He was only anchored to the here and now by the prick in his throat and the finger in his ass, which was going deeper and sending sparks off behind Anders' closed eyes.

Fenris pushed in a second finger and Anders came undone. He cried out around the hard flesh that gagged him, his hips bucking as he came. Fenris' cock turned to steel and the elf was muttering against Anders' thighs.'

"Take it all down and hold it. Fuck, like that. Do it again, Anders." His nails dug into Anders' ass, and his thighs shook around the mage's head as he rasped brokenly. He let out a strangled shout and his cock started jerking, pouring out over Anders' tongue. He swallowed the bitter liquid as his hands soothed up and down Fenris' back, calming him while his body trembled.

Anders gave Fenris' now limp flesh one last kiss before moving out from between the elf's thighs. He turned around on the bed to face Fenris, and gave him a sleepy smile. He opened his mouth and Fenris clapped a hand to it. "Don't."

Anders chuckled against his hand and moved it away. "I wasn't going to make a joke. I was just going to say—"

Banging on the door interrupted him and they both craned their necks at the same time to look at it—freezing.

"It sounds like you two are having a lovely time in there," came Isabela's voice through the wood. "But I am being forced to tell you that there are people looking for Anders. He's needed in the infirmary." She paused and Anders could just see the sly grin on her face. "Of course, I could just say I haven't found you. If you let me have a little peek."

Fenris shot up from the bed, untangling his limbs from Anders. He picked up his smallclothes and grimaced at them in disgust before pulling his pants on without. When he turned to pull out a new shirt from the dresser, Anders saw faint scratch marks down the elf's back. He knew his was going to be worse. The sexual haze was wearing off and he could feel the stings of bite marks and scratches on his body. He rolled over on the bed and gave a stretch that would have made Pounce proud.

His clothes landed on his face and he sat up with a sputter. "Get dressed. I won't have that woman gossiping about us." Fenris ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to give it some order.

Anders grumbled as he got dressed. He waded up his smalls into a ball and hid it in his robes. He felt around the bed, looking for the tie for his hair. "Maker. The wardens are as bad as the circle. Never giving a man a chance to actually spend time with his lover." He grabbed up the blanket and shook it. "Where _is_ that blighted thing."

"Leave it, before—"

The door knob rattled and Fenris turned a glare on the door, as if to penetrate the wood to the woman beyond. "Ten seconds, boys. I don't appreciate being a messenger."

Fenris strode over to the door and jerked it out of Isabela's hand. They stared at each other, Isabela with a wicked glee and Fenris with a simmering anger. He stepped back to let Anders pass. The mage paused, and gave Fenris a searching look, hovering between the hall and the room.

"I'll see you after the dinner bell," Fenris said. His voice was calm, as if they hadn't just had each other's cocks down their throats a moment before. He flicked his gaze to Isabela and back to the mage.

"See you then," Anders said softly as he stepped out into the hall. Isabela opened her mouth and Fenris slammed the door shut before she could get a word in.

Fenris turned back towards his room and stood there, his hands clenched at his sides. The place smelled like sex and Anders, and Fenris didn't know if he would ever get that smell out of his senses, or if he even wanted to. He opened his fist and a string dangled from his fingers. With a small smile, he wound it around his wrist and tied it off with his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Fenris head cannon is a bit of a dirty talker. I think Anders approves.


	18. Chapter 18

"I don't know what they've been feeding you, but you've gotten fat," Anders told the cat in his arms as he walked to Fenris' room. Pounce gave him an indigent meow and Anders shook his head. "Look, I'm your friend so I'll tell you the truth. You've gotten fat and that's all there is to it."

He stopped in front of the elf's door and set the cat down. "But I still love you," he assured him as he bent down to scratch Pounce's chin. "You're big and beautiful. You don't let anyone tell you otherwise. They're just jealous of all that lovely cat to pet. Aren't they, my pretty?" Anders was only partially aware his tone had degenerated into baby talk. Pounce bumped his head against the mage's hand, and a rumbling purr poured out of him.

"Do you always talk to him like that?" Anders turned his head slowly to see that Fenris had opened his door, and was looking down on him with crossed arms.

Anders cleared his throat and straightened. "If I said no, what are the chances that you'd believe me?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Little to none." Fenris moved out of the way and gestured into his room. "You're late. The dinner bell rang an hour ago."

"Maker, don't remind me. Oghren came to the infirmary with a list of complaints." Anders gave a shudder that wasn't feigned as he stepped into the room. "I was beginning to wonder if the smell of rot coming off of him was because he had missed his Calling. I mean, would he even know when it happened? Or will he turn into a rotting, ale swilling ghoul with an axe?"

Fenris walked over to his dresser and picked up a bottle of wine. "The dwarf knew where to find this. So his brain hasn't succumbed yet." He uncorked the bottle and filled two goblets.

"Seriously? You're using Oghren's ability to know where all the liquor is kept, as your evidence that his brain isn't decaying." Anders accepted the goblet held out for him. He'd noticed that Fenris had retrieved his armor and sword from the practice yard, and was once again covered in spiky leather and steel. Anders had always thought it was as real a pronouncement as the elf could get to warn others to stay away from him.

"Very true," Fenris conceded. He set his own goblet back down without having taken so much as a sip. His fingers drummed along the top of his dresser and Anders narrowed his eyes.

Something was wrong.

"All right. Let's have it." Anders walked over to the bed and sat down on it. "Is this is the part where you tell me that we've made a mistake? Or that you've realized you can't get pass the fact I'm a mage." He snapped his fingers. "I've got it! It's both! Plus I'm an abomination."

Fenris had stopped moving his fingers. "What are you babbling about?" he asked in exasperation. He scrubbed his hands over his face to wipe away his irritation, careful not to scratch himself with his gauntlets.

"That's not…" He sat down next to Anders on the bed, and sighed. He sounded more tired than Anders had ever heard him. "Drink your wine."

"For fortification?" Anders brought the goblet to his lips and tilted his head back, gulping it in one go. He gasped for breath and made a face. "I think it's gone bad. It has a strange taste to it." He eyed the empty goblet before Fenris plucked it from his fingers.

"I need you to know something," the elf began. He set the goblet down on the floor. He reached out and gently tucked a stray bit of golden hair behind Anders' ear. He'd had to make do with a bit of string he had found in the infirmary, and his hair had been slipping out of it.

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"I need you to know," Fenris continued on, "that I will always do what must be done in order to protect you." His claws rasped over the shadow of a beard on Anders' jaw. "You may hate me for the things I do, but it's important that you know they are done with the best of intentions."

Anders grasped Fenris' wrist, arresting his caress. "What did you do?" he demanded. He blinked and he felt like a warm, heavy blanket had settled over his body.

"I promised myself when you were in the Gallows that if you had been made Tranquil, I would end your suffering. I make this promise to you again." Fenris' gaze bore into Anders', and his green eyes were full of deadly intent. Anders couldn't make himself look away. The feeling of dread that had settled like a rock in his stomach grew until he couldn't draw air.

"Wha…" His tongue felt too thick for his mouth, and he couldn't seem to form words with lips gone numb.

Fenris cradled Anders' face between his hands. "You have given me more than anyone else. I could do nothing less for you then to give you your freedom." For the first time since Fenris had spoken, he looked unsure of himself. Anders wanted to touch him, to reassure the elf, but his limbs no longer followed his commands.

He gently lowered Anders on the bed. "I do care for you, Anders. I won't lie and tell you that I love you. It's not something I know for a surety myself. But I need you to remember that you are cared for." He pressed his forehead against Anders. Their eyes were so close, that Anders couldn't seem to help thinking he was drowning in a sea of green as the room around him spun.

 _Betrayed! We have been poisoned!_ Justice tried to surface, but came up against the same blanket of fog that covered Anders' mind.

"I won't let him have you." Fenris' promise was the last thing he heard.

The last thing he felt was a desperate kiss.

* * *

Fenris didn't look up from Anders' sleeping form when his door creaked open. There was only one person that would come into his room. "Did it have to be tonight?" he asked.

Aedan nodded and walked to the bed. "Wynn and the circle mages could not wait." He was wearing full plate, minus the helmet that would have obscured his face. He had a shield-that bore a griffon in flight across a landscape of deep blue-strapped to his back, and a sword at his hip.

Shortly after Isabela had come for Anders, Fenris had been summoned to a meeting in Aedan's office. Two wardens that he had not seen before and a group of mages were waiting for him, along with Howe and Zevran. At first, Fenris had thought it was to be a disciplinary meeting, but he was quickly disabused of that notion as Aedan spoke.

He introduced the elf woman as Velanna and the dwarf as Sigrun. Two wardens he had dispatched the day after he and Anders had come to the keep. They had gone to retrieve Wynn and the mages from the circle, and only now had returned.

And only now was Fenris hearing about it.

He had raged at Aedan for leaving him out of something that could mean life or death for Anders. Aedan had pointed out he was already on thin ice, and that Fenris was now part of a chain of command. As such, he was the last and newest link. They hadn't known if he would tell Anders, and thus inadvertently inform Justice of their plans.

Fenris had understood why they had left him out of it-he just didn't have to like it.

Nor did he have to like it when he was told that there was a chance that Anders might not survive what was coming. If that happened, then death or Tranquility was the only option.

Fenris had broken a chair, tossing it across the room to watch it crash into pieces against the wall. He had screamed at Aedan that death was the only option. He wouldn't allow Anders to go through a half life.

It had taken Wynn's soothing voice to calm Fenris down from that. They didn't have much time. Oghren could only occupy Anders for so long. He had instead paced the room, his fingers flicking against each other while he listened to what was going to be required.

And when Zevran had given him a small bottle, sealed with wax, Fenris had hesitated a heartbeat before taking it; his head bent as he listened to the other elf's murmured instructions.

Together, Fenris and Aedan picked up Anders and carried him out of the room. When Anders had asked him to come away with him and Justice, Fenris had known they were running out of time. Aedan and the others told him that Anders had cornered more than one of them to expound on the plight of mages. Fenris feared for the day that Anders disappeared completely, slipping out in the night—alone. Justice had seemed calmer the first few days they were back at the keep, but it appeared the demon was becoming restless.

Anders was dangerous, and Aedan could not allow him to roam free as he was. Justice was not the benign spirit the mage seemed to think he was. Justice was cold and unfeeling. Justice took no sides and pronounced judgment without bias.

But Vengeance…

Vengeance was anger. Vengeance was rage that simmered until it was satisfied. Vengeance came at you in dark, a knife in your back, a blade at your throat. It cared not for those that got in its way. It was secretive-it schemed and brought down everything to get to its endgame.

Vengeance was heartless in a way that Justice was not.

There was no Justice anymore, Aedan had assured Fenris. There was only Vengeance, and it had to be stopped, or else it would unleash chaos and take Anders down with him.

They made the trip quickly to the bowels of the keep. Between the two of them, they were able to navigate the stairs carrying Anders' dead weight. They stopped at a large door and Aedan kicked at it, his hands full. It creaked open and Zevran hurried to step back as they brought Anders in.

They laid him down in the middle of the room, and Zevran checked Anders pulse and peeled back his eyelids. "Good. You did not give him too much. What I gave you can be tricky. A little more and we would have no need to do this, yes?"

Fenris stepped out of the ring of candles that encircled Anders on the floor. "I am not a fool. I gave him six drops as you instructed."

"I don't think you're a fool, my friend." Zevran followed him and placed his hands on his daggers. He, like Aedan and Fenris, was fully armored. Three blades were strapped to his hips, and two more at his back.

Fenris rubbed at his wrist, where Anders' hair tie was below his gauntlet. Zevran seemed to have forgiven him. The elf had laughed and said all of his very best of friends try to kill him at least once.

Aedan was another matter.

"Shall we get started?" Wynn asked as she stepped into the circle. Mages formed an outer ring, with the candles as an inner one and Anders at its center. Aedan had wanted no one else to be a witness as to what they were about to do. He had staved off Howe's protests by telling him he was needed to watch the keep.

Aedan nodded and, as one, the mages lifted their arms and began to chant. Fenris gritted his teeth as the spell pulled on his brands. The magic brushed along his skin and his markings lit in response.

He didn't know how long the chanting went on, but Wynn was perspiring as the magic they called collected around Anders. She made a quick motion with her hands and Fenris took a step inside the circle. He saw Aedan and Zevran do the same in his periphery, before there was a blue flash and everything disappeared.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the Kudos and reviews! Sorry these took so long to post.

Anders was going to be late. He ran through the ornate hallway, weaving through pillars of onyx inscribed with gold runes. He had his robe in his hands, and lifted the hem from his sandal clad feet. He crushed the rich blue material, heedless of the fine silver threads woven into the fabric.

Slaves bowed and scurried out of his path, their eyes downcast lest they catch his unwanted attention. He didn't pause in his stride as he came to a large set of doors at the end of the hall. Two armed slaves recognized him and opened them, giving him deep bows as he passed.

The room was ablaze with light, every massive torch was lit. Anders stuttered to a halt and the doors closed behind him. His hands had left damp impressions on his robes and he dropped it, the fabric swirling around his ankles.

His eyes darted around the room as he caught his breath. They were all here, but hadn't started yet. All the expensive Orlaisian furniture that had graced the room was gone. The great rug that had depicted the hunt of the last unicorn was absent as well. The other mages in the room stood against the walls, chatting amongst themselves, as if this was any other party thrown at the manor. Slaves moved through the guests with golden trays holding an assortment of delicacies from around Thedas.

When the doors had opened, every eye in the room turned towards Anders. They eyed his crumpled robes and the way his chest rose and fell from exertion. A few smirked to their partners as if to say, 'Did we expect anything else?'

Anders would always be the oddity here. He would never be quite accepted, no matter how much power he had. He'd come to terms with it long ago, their whispers blowing past him like so much wind.

He swallowed and forced a charming smile on his face. "I see I'm not too late," he said as their host strode towards him.

"No. You have arrived just in time." Danarius gestured towards the dark haired elf on the only piece of furniture in the room. He was naked and bound to an altar with silver chains. Even from here, Anders could see the power moving across the surface of the metal links. No one would be able to break them.

"Fenris," Anders whispered. He fought to keep the horror off his face. He hadn't believed Danarius when the man had proposed his plans to him.

He had to stop this.

* * *

Fenris didn't know where the others were. He stood against the wall with the other mages in the room, wearing a body that was not his own. Wynn had cautioned them that nothing in the Fade was as it seemed, and it would be a construct of Justice's and Anders' choosing.

Anders had never met Danarius. The mage wearing his name looked nothing like the man, and Fenris found it easy to separate fact from fiction. This Danarius had blonde hair like Anders. It was cut short and the hairline was receding. His accent was all wrong, sounding nothing like Arcanum. Fenris knew who the man was masquerading as. Hadriana, who Anders had met, was clinging to him, her eyes adoring.

He needed to find Zevran and Aedan. It was unnerving to see a younger version of himself splayed out, his body a feast for the vultures encircling him. Fenris wondered if he had truly looked like that, his skin unblemished and his hair dark. He looked so vulnerable… He jerked his eyes away from the sight and glanced around the room.

He noticed two mages, a man and a woman wandering about the edges of the room. Fenris walked over to the male, a redhead. He paused, looking for something innocuous to say. It had to be something that only the three of them would understand. "I hear Oghren has taken a bath," Fenris said casually.

The man looked at him sharply before replying. "Zevran or Fenris?"

"Fenris," he whispered. He gave the woman a furtive glance and nodded in her direction, drawing the man's attention. Her eyes moved around the room, taking in everything. She saw the two of them and sauntered over.

"Zev?" Aedan asked cautiously.

The woman curtsied, showing off cleavage that would make Isabela proud. "Is there another? I don't think the world could handle more than one of me, yes?"

The doors opened and the room went quiet. Fenris turned to see Anders come rushing in. He heard Aedan gasp in surprise and he agreed with the sentiment. Anders wore robes that he could never have afforded in the waking world. He was clean shaven and his hair was unbound, draping passed his shoulders to snake down to his waist.

Danarius went to greet Anders, and they spoke too softly to be heard above the return chatter. When Danarius turned his back, Fenris could make out his name forming on Anders' lips.

Anders looked upon the younger Fenris with such tenderness and fear, that he felt something in the vicinity of his chest tighten in response. The mage had never quite looked at him so openly, and Fenris knew it was his fault that Anders kept a part of his feelings back.

"What is this?" Aedan asked.

"I assume this is when I received my brands." Fenris tilted his head towards Danarius. "That man is supposed to be the magister who gave them to me. The woman clinging to his side is his apprentice."

"And Anders?" Zevran raised an eyebrow. It was disconcerting to hear his voice out of a woman's mouth.

"From the looks of it, I would say he is here to stop it. Although why he and Justice would choose this is beyond me." Fenris touched his wrist. He could still feel his armor and sword, even though they were hidden from view.

"Is it?" Zevran gave him a knowing smile and Fenris looked away.

"It doesn't matter the reason," Aedan said. "We can't let him play this out." Without another word he pushed through the crowd, leaving Fenris and Zevran to follow.

* * *

Anders knew he was outnumbered. No one here would lift a finger to help him if he attacked Danarius. But what the man was doing wasn't right. He'd had such dreams when he had come to Tevinter all those years ago. He had wanted to live freely as any other man. The reality of the Imperium had shattered his youthful imaginings quickly.

Unable to leave or risk being hunted down, Anders had forged a place for him in Tevinter society. Circle politics were the same the world over, and Anders had played the game very well-until he had met an elven slave.

He and Fenris had met when the elf had delivered a message to Anders from his master. The mage had found himself searching for Fenris whenever he was at Danarius' manor. Through quick, secretive conversations, they had struck up a friendship—then something more. Anders couldn't say how it happened-how they had changed from friends into lovers, but Anders would not regret a single moment of it.

He'd made a mistake, though. He had shown an interest in Fenris and Danarius had noticed. He had wanted to buy the elf, offering far more money than Fenris was worth. Danarius had hedged, stringing Anders along with promises of considering the sale. Until two nights ago, when Danarius had told Anders he could not possibly part with the elf. He needed him for something grand, and wouldn't Anders just love to come and see?

What Danarius was planning was unspeakable, and Anders could no longer ignore the corruption of the magisters. He reached behind him and pulled out his staff, brandishing it towards Danarius.

"Danarius! I challenge you to a duel!" he cried. If he had thought the noise had been sucked out of the room when he entered, it was nothing compared to the silence that settled over it now.

"Shit," Aedan cursed. "What is that idiot mage doing?" They burst into the middle of the room. No one so much as looked at them, their gaze riveted on Anders and Danarius.

Danarius threw back his head and laughed. "You? I'm a magister of the highest order. What could a runaway circle mage do to me?"

"Anders…" With his eyes open, the Fenris on the altar pleaded with Anders. "Help me. You have to kill him. Give me my vengeance."

Fenris turned on his younger self, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He grasped Aedan by the arm, and felt cold steel instead of the fabric of fine robes. "There. It's not Danarius. It's… me…"

Aedan gave him a terse nod. "Ready yourselves." A sword and shield appeared, pulled out of the veil of the illusion covering him.

"Anders!" he shouted. He smacked his sword against his shield, garnering everyone's attention. You're in the Fade. Wake up!"

_You're in the Fade… The Fade… Fade…_

Anders clutched his head with hands, dropping his staff. He bent over, his hair falling forward to shield his face. "No! I won't fall for your lies, Danarius. I won't let you hurt another slave." His hand shot out and a blast of energy slammed into Danarius. The mage screamed as it consumed him.

Panting, Anders rushed over to Fenris. His hands shook as he touched the elf and pulled fruitlessly at the chains. "It's over. He's gone."

"No," the younger Fenris said. "It's not, my love. Three of his apprentices are still here. Destroy them before they take you from me."

"This is not good," Zevran said. The room was empty now, the other mages disappearing when Danarius had been too easily destroyed. Vengeance wasn't going to let Anders go without making them pay for the attempt.

"No, it is not," Fenris agreed. He pulled his sword from its sheath, and Zevran did the same, two daggers appearing in his hands.

"We are one. I will never leave you." Anders bent down and brushed a light kiss over Fenris' lips.

"And I will never let you go," Vengeance said. His eyes flickered with an inner blue fire.

Anders placed himself between the elf on the altar and the three mages that would separate them. "I will not let you have him. You'll have to kill me first." He would not allow them to take the one person that understood him away. Anders would have nothing. With Fenris, he had a purpose. Without him, he would return to the selfish man he was. Fenris gave Anders meaning, and had shown him that there was more to life than thinking of his own needs.

The elf had encouraged Anders to open a clinic for the slaves. Free from the prying eyes of the magisters, Anders helped those that could not help themselves. Once Anders' eyes had opened to the brutal reality of life as a slave, Fenris had taught him that there were far worthier goals, and Anders needed to be the one to free them.

He spread his hands wide and drew from the Fade. His hands glowed with power as blue fire raced up his arms. "I won't give him up!"

* * *

"Move!" Aedan's shout came just in time as Fenris dashed out of the way of the spell. It slammed into the wall behind him and sent cracks spider-webbing across the surface. They dodged another spell, energy speeding passed them. Anders gave a cry of rage, this time putting more power into the spell. It caught Zevran and he flew across the room, blue fire licking at his clothing.

"Zev!" Aedan raised his shield and blocked the next spell.

Behind Anders, Vengeance was watching the battle, its eyes glowing and a manic grin on its face. Fenris curled his lips at the demon when it looked at the elf. They were at an impasse, and the demon knew it. They couldn't hurt Anders, not without doing damage to him in the waking world. He needed to get to the demon. _He_ was the real foe.

"Anders," Fenris shouted. "This isn't real. You are in the Fade. That is a demon you are protecting."

"No! You will say anything, blood mage." Anders turned on Fenris. His power had spread from his arms to his chest.

"Do you see a blood mage?" Fenris countered. "Would a blood mage use steel when they could call upon demons instead?"

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply and his hands lowered, some of the blue fire winking out. "No… I—"

"He lies," Vengeance snarled. "He will say anything to separate us. Do not believe him." The chains dissolved and Vengeance stood from the altar. Naked, he padded over to Anders and slipped his arms around him from behind. "Do not let him take me. No one understands you like I do. We have been together for so long, don't throw it away."

By the way that Anders' eyes glazed, Fenris knew he was losing him. "What about us? What about what we have together? Would you throw that away for what he promises you?" He held out his hand. "Remember what I told you. You aren't alone. You are cared for." The words that came out of his mouth were pulled from him, heedless of the audience they had. Now wasn't the time to prevaricate. Not when it meant Anders' life.

* * *

_You are cared for…_

Anders tried to take a step away from Fenris. The elf's arms were iron bands around his ribs, squeezing the air from his lungs. He suddenly felt trapped, and his hands clawed at Fenris' hands.

Something wasn't right. Everything felt wrong—twisted. The world around him wavered, and he caught a brief flash of another place-another room-spinning around him. He saw green eyes that demanded to be understood-that Anders remember.

"This isn't right. This—" He choked as Fenris constricted his lungs further, like a snake that would not let go of its prey.

Spots danced in front of his eyes as he looked up to the mage with the outstretched hand. The image of him and the apprentices rippled like water. He could just make out other forms under the surface before it smoothed over once more.

But it had been enough.

"I'm in the Fade," Anders whispered. His eyes widened. "Andraste's flaming knickers! I'm in the Fade."

The world collapsed.

* * *

Vengeance was not merciful. It cared not for morality, or fair play. It hunted with Rage and Desire, twin hounds that nipped at your ankles while Vengeance drove you forth. It lied and schemed, turning brother against brother, and lover against lover. It was Justice, twisted with mortal need and emotion.

And Anders had always felt such emotion.

"You would interrupt my feasting?" Vengeance rose up behind Anders, its true form revealed. The room was gone and they stood on a desolate bluff. In the distance, they could just make out the Black City, its spires twisting up towards a cracked sky.

Aedan remembered what Justice looked like, and this was no longer him. The demon shone with the same fiery blue, but his armor was battle scarred, twisted and rent in places. Two massive hounds from the Void panted at his feet, their tongues lolling between razor sharp fangs.

Anders turned and his eyes were wide with fear. His glorious robes disappeared, leaving him with his tattered coat. His hair fell away, and it once more swung around a shadowed jaw. The illusions around the three apprentices dropped, and Anders found himself reaching for Fenris. He took a few stumbling steps and grasped the elf's hand.

"What is happening!" he asked as he turned to face the demon in front of them. "Why in all the blighted Void am I in the _Fade_ , and what is that!" Anders couldn't recall the last time he had been to the Fade. He no longer touched it when sleeping. Justice used that time to vicariously get back a little bit of the home he had lost. The last time he had been there, Justice had taken over and Anders had no recollection of helping Hawke.

Justice.

Maker, where was Justice?

The spirit should be here. He took over when Anders was in the Fade. Why not now? He reached inside himself and felt nothing where the spirit was suppose to be. He… His eyes slowly moved up the demon in front of them.

"No," he said, horrified. "That's not—"

"Oh, but it is, Fenris replied dryly. He'd watched the emotions dancing along Anders' face. "What was once him."

This was the most crucial part. Anders needed to reject Vengeance and all he stood for. He touched Anders' shoulder gently. "Do not let him sway you. He is no longer your friend Justice. You have said those same words before. Remember that."

Anders tore his gaze away from the monstrosity. "We have to help him."

"They will not help me," Vengeance laughed. "They seek to destroy me. Will you allow this, Anders? Will you deny that I have always been in your heart? I was born in you the moment you were ripped from your mother's arms. I was there when your father turned his back on you, denying your birthright. I grew when you saw your first Tranquil. I raged with you when you witnessed your first rape and were powerless to stop it. Together we did all we could to defy the chantry and the templars. Would you part from me when I have been your only comfort?"

Fenris felt Anders trembling under his hand and he gripped the mage tighter to still him. "He will consume you." Fenris reminded him. "Don't listen."

"The voice of knowledge speaks!" Vengeance laughed again. "You could join us. I could give you the vengeance you seek. The three of us could rip Tevinter apart, tearing it from the face of Thedas."

"How would that work?" Zevran asked as he spoke up for the first time. "How could you possibly give them both what they want?"

"He can't," Aedan answered. "He's reaching because he knows he is losing."

Vengeance gave a bellow of rage. The hounds lunged forward, their mouths gaping wide.

Aedan stepped in front of Zevran and raised his shield, taking the brunt of the attack. He staggered back, but his feet were planted firmly on the ground. Zevran darted around the hound that was trying to tear through Aedan's shield. His daggers flashed in the unreal light of the Fade, sinking into the hound's flesh with deadly precision.

Anders made a run for his staff, snatching it from the ground while Fenris held off the other hound. The creature had his sword between its jaws, caught in sharp fangs. He could feel its hot breath on his face, and he almost gagged from the stench. He kicked at the thing's head and pulled on his weapon at the same time, dislodging it. He shifted his stance and raised his sword high, bringing it down on the demon's head. It moved and he landed a glancing blow along its shoulder.

The demon raked its claws along Fenris' right leg and he almost collapsed from the agony. He felt a pull on his brands, and a caressing, healing wave washed over the wound, soothing the pain away.

When his markings flared, the hound hesitated. The whole Fade hesitated.

"The song…" Vengeance spoke with two voices, each overlaid on the other.

"Fenris!" Aedan called. "Do it again, quickly."

He nodded and clenched his hands on the hilt of his sword. His brands burst forth with power, engulfing him in their light. It felt strange, and at first, Fenris fought the sensation. Already in the Fade, there was nowhere else to move halfway into—except deeper. Dreamers did not go where Fenris was now stepping a foot into.

It felt like he was being ripped in half. It wasn't a physical sensation, but a spiritual one. Images danced before his eyes, and for a moment-for the barest instant-Fenris understood what Danarius had done to him.

The understanding was gone as quick as it came, wrest from his grip. He cried out in denial, as Vengeance cried out in fear.

"Maker," Anders said in awe. He, Zevran and Aedan were staring at a door that led deeper into the Fade. It hovered near the insubstantial form that was Fenris. The things they saw there—in that one glimpse—defied description. Anders felt something trickling down his nose and he touched his face. His hand came away with blood.

"Don't look." Anders rushed over to the others and stood in front of them, his arms held wide. "Don't!"

Aedan jerked his eyes away at the same time Zevran lurched towards Anders. "Get back!" the elf cried, as he took the mage to the ground.

Something was crawling out. Humanoid hands with unnaturally long fingers, gripped the edges of the doorway and a figure stepped through. The hounds tucked their tails between their legs and backed away—cowering.

Vengeance roared and fell to his knees. "I will not go back."

A woman walked onto the bluff. She seemed so small and fragile, but her presence commanded respect. She turned and smiled at them, and Anders couldn't help but smile back, a foolish grin on his face.

As she walked towards Vengeance, she lightly touched the hounds. They shrank, losing their bulk. Their teeth receded and one of them wagged its tail. "Go play," she said. The sound of her voice was lyrical, and Zevran laughed to hear it. As one, the dogs turned and disappeared.

"I will not go back," Vengeance said once again. "There is too much to do here."

She gave him a sad smile. "Justice, look at what has become of you." She gently stroked his face, and the demon shuddered, a sigh escaping him. "It's time to go home. You never should have left."

Justice took the hand she offered to him and got to his feet. His armor was was more unblemished, and his voice returned to its familiar cadence. "It has been too long."

He turned towards Anders. "I have wronged you greatly. There is nothing I can do that will make up for that. I can give you a piece of advice."

Anders' mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "It's… I mean…"

"Do not allow him back in the Fade," Justice went on. He pointed at Fenris' ethereal form. "He is dangerous. It is forbidden to open the ways only the First may travel. If he returns, I will have to stop this from happening again."

"He will not return," Aedan said suddenly. "You have my word on that."

Fenris was shaking, his body overwhelmed with the power coursing through his brands. He made a choked sound, unable to form words. He felt like he was going to fly apart, his being scattering across the Fade like ashes.

"We must go," the woman said. "The way will not be open for long." She took Justice's hand in her own and led him to the door.

"Wait," Anders called. "Who are you? Where are you taking him?"

She gave him a secretive smile. "I am Hope. I am taking him to return home among the First."

* * *

Anders' eyes flew open. Candle light flickered around him and he heard frantic voices. Wynn's face came into view and she gave him a relieved smile.

"Welcome back," she said. "Your friends are waking up. How do you feel?"

"I…" Anders voice cut off in a sob. He threw his arm over his eyes and hid from her gaze. Tears tracked down his cheeks, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his weeping.

Justice was gone. Anders had let down someone who had been a true friend to him. He had twisted him into something monstrous. He was glad that Justice had finally found a way home, but Anders was going to miss his presence. The demon had been right when he'd said that he knew Anders inside and out. That what was inside Anders could corrupt one of the First so thoroughly…

He hadn't really cried since he had been taken from his mother. But he did now, his body wracked with sobs. He couldn't seem to make it stop. It was like a festering wound that was finally being let. He cried for his friend, for the things they had done together. He cried for what he had done to Justice. He wept for the lonely little boy that had been snatched from his mother's side to be thrown to the wolves.

For Karl.

For those that he called friend and he had betrayed everyday with his lies—his assurances that he wasn't an abomination, when deep down, he knew otherwise.

Feet shuffled around him and a door closed, leaving him with the sound of his sobs as his only company. It only made it worse, that they would give him the privacy he needed when he didn't deserve it.

He jerked when hands pulled at his arm. He lifted it away to blink reddened eyes at Fenris. What must the elf think of him now?

"I know I look pitiful," Anders began. "Wouldn't Oghren just have a field day with this. The weeping, sissy mage. Wait, he wasn't here, was he?"

"Don't," Fenris said flatly. "Don't make a joke." He sat back on his heels and crouched over Anders. He looked tired and dark circles made his eyes seem hollow.

"Why do you always say that?" Anders asked, his tone fiercer than he had expected it to be.

"Because you do it when you are upset, or nervous." Fenris plucked at a loose thread on Anders coat. "You use humor as a way to deflect, and to escape uncomfortable feelings."

Anders eyebrows shot up. No one had ever picked up on that before, or they at least had never pointed it out so blatantly. He almost returned the favor by asking if Fenris was trying to unravel his coat.

"Your Danarius looked nothing like the man."

Anders sucked in a quick breath through his nose. "That's because he looked like my father." He rubbed at his face, and wiped off the tears that had not yet dried. "Or what I think he looked like. It's been so long now."

"You were taken from your family older than normal, if I recall." Fenris halted the movement of his fingers and Anders knew it meant he was keenly interested. If anyone deserved to know, then it was Fenris. Without him, Anders would have given himself to Vengeance.

"Have you ever been to the Anderfels?" Fenris didn't give him an answer. He knew that Anders wasn't looking for one. "Mountains, snow and hard people. They stubbornly cling to life there. My father hated me. I knew it, my mother knew it, the whole blighted village knew it. He resented my presence in my mother's life. I often wondered if it was me he hated, or that I divided her attention."

He looked away from Fenris-lost in memory. "I set fire to him one day. If we hadn't been standing by the lake, I would have killed him. He just won't stop hitting me and I felt this…pull. 'Burn,' I thought. 'I want you to burn.' The next day the templars came."

He had never told anyone that story. If he had it was edited, a filtered version where he didn't have to admit that his own father had thrown him away.

Fenris touched Anders' jaw, urging him to turn back. "It wasn't your fault."

Those words hit Anders like a punch to the gut. Fenris was speaking about more than the mage's father. Fresh tears stung his eyes. "Oh, Maker. I'd just fucking stopped."

Fenris chuckled and wiped at Anders' tears, catching them with his fingers. "Justice was never meant to share a body with another. If he had done it with anyone else, the same results would have happened. Your friend is where he belongs."

He raised an eyebrow. "I give you the same advice you gave me. Actions speak louder than words. You have made yourself greater than your beginnings. Never forget that."

Anders' back was hurting from the cold, stone floor. He pushed himself up on his forearms and gave Fenris a disgruntled look. "You're an asshole, you know that? Throwing my words back at me, as if I should practice what I preach. Low blow, elf."

The elf's lips twitched as he pulled Anders to his feet. "With you, I will take any advantage I can get." Neither of them wanted to speak anymore of what had happened in the Fade. Their emotions were too raw. Fenris still felt like he was about to fly apart at any moment, as if he what he had done in the Fade had created cracks in his soul, and the slightest touch would shatter him.

If he tried, he could just see the answers he had found in the Fade. They floated away from him in teasing dances, just out of his reach and understanding. It was nothing new, he assured himself. What was one more question whose answer was locked in his mind?

He shivered at the lie he told himself and gripped Anders hand as they made their way back up the keep. His skin felt like it was crawling.

Anders squeezed his hand and Fenris looked back at him. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," the mage said, reading Fenris' disquiet accurately.

Fenris nodded. "Tomorrow."


	20. Chapter 20

Despite their resolve, Fenris and Anders did not get a chance to talk about what happened in the Fade. Aedan took care of that for them. The Warden-Commander gave them one day to regroup before calling them into his office. They went over the painful journey in excruciating detail for Wynn and Howe.

Fenris didn't see the need of reopening the wound for others. Aedan reminded him once more that the wardens were an organization, and there was a chain of command. Reports had to be filed, bureaucracy appeased.

There was also the matter of what Fenris had done in the Fade.

"I've never heard of such a thing," Wynn said, her face full of astonishment. "You say you stepped deeper into the Fade than dreamers go? How is that possible?"

Fenris twisted his lips in a scowl. "How was it possible that Danarius did this to me?" he retorted. Lifting his arms, he turned them so the brands between his armor shone clearly in the light. "How is it possible I survived this? I do not have the answers you want. Danarius did not confide in me while he was laying lyrium into my skin."

He had always known that Danarius had larger plans for Fenris than using him as an intimidating weapon. The man did nothing small. If he went through the trouble and expense to turn Fenris into… whatever it was, then it was done for a greater purpose. Fenris had a suspicion that niggled at the back of him mind as to what it was. He balked at it, his mind shying away from something too monstrous to contemplate.

"I don't know how you survived it." Wynn glanced at Aedan. "You say Justice made it clear that he was never to enter the Fade again?"

Aedan gave her a small nod of assent. "He was very adamant about it."

"Excuse me," Howe cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "This was the work of a magister. We know of something that could tell us the mind of one."

Anders, who had remained largely silent, shot to his feet, his chair scraping back on the floor. "No." He rounded on Aedan. "I can't believe that _thing_ is still alive. It's insane."

"That _thing_ has helped us in the past. It could help us now." Aedan arched an eyebrow at Anders' tone. He had always allowed the men under him to have a voice in his decisions, but Anders and Fenris apparently took his leniency to the point of outright insubordination. Both of them liked to question him a little too much, and it grated on his nerves.

"At what price? Is he still taking blood as payment? No. I won't let him near Fenris." Anders' arms were flailing wildly in his agitation. "He might have been responsible for the last blight, for Maker's sake."

"That's enough!" Aedan shouted. He pointed a finger at Fenris. "And you. Do not say one word. I am commander here, as much as you two would like to forget that. Things aren't as lackadaisical as they were when you were here last, Anders. I've created order here and I mean to keep it this way. The wardens of Ferelden will not be caught off guard and used like they were in the past."

He lowered his hand and straightened his tunic, smoothing away his anger. "Now, I have a warden who was possessed and another who has powers that are dangerous and unknown. What do either of you think I should tell the First Warden about that? What do you think he will do?" Neither of them answered, and Fenris seethed at Aedan's tone. Being told what to do pricked at nerves still raw from his life as a slave.

"I'll tell you what he will do. He will send for you both, and I will lose my jurisdiction over you two. We cannot report this yet until it is resolved. Unless you want to go back to the land of your birth, Anders. Then by all means, ignore me. Nate is right-we have someone who might be able to tell us answers without alerting Weisshaupt."

Fenris did speak then. "Who?" His hands were clenched into fists on his lap. He understood that Aedan was the one in command, but it didn't mean he had to like taking orders.

"A darkspawn known as the Architect. He resides below us in the Deep Roads." Aedan pointed down at his feet.

"Right below us," Anders added. "The thing might as well just move into our basement."

* * *

Fenris picked up another bandage and rolled it into a neat, compact ball. He had been in the infirmary for two weeks now. His long, unarmored fingers made quick work of it and he pulled at another piece of linen from the pile. He could see why Marian had looked so bored when she was in the clinic in Darktown. This was beyond tedious.

Aedan had informed him that it would take some time to locate the Architect, and that Fenris would just have to be patient-in the infirmary. It was his punishment for attacking Zevran and questioning Aedan so much. Every morning he rose at dawn and grabbed a quick breakfast of bread and soft cheese. He would then head down to the practice yard and run the other wardens through a series of drills and mock fights. When the sun raised high above him at noon, he was to eat lunch and report to the infirmary to assist in whatever was needed there. Aedan had told him that if he wanted to help break his wardens, then he could damn well help fix them.

Fenris knew what it really was about. He had given the elf a menial job, one meant to test his resolve in following orders. If Fenris could roll bandages and cut elfroot for several hours a day, then he could be relied on to comply with orders in the field.

He also had been stripped of his armor and weapons when he wasn't in the practice yard. Aedan meant to disarm him literally and figuratively. He had said there was no need to go around the keep battle ready. Fenris felt naked, wearing nothing but a plain black tunic and his leggings. In Kirkwall he had always been armed, ready for the day when Danarius came for him. He hadn't even let his guard down when he had slept, his sword laying next to him like a lover in his decaying mansion. It had been macabre, but Fenris had known no other way. Aedan was going to force the elf to change whether he liked it or not.

Since the night that they came back from the Fade, Anders had taken the place of Fenris' sword in his bed. The two of them curled up next to each other, their limbs tangling. It was never discussed, but each night, Anders came to Fenris' room, Ser Pounce-a-lot in his arms. The elf would let Anders in, and the two would strip down to their smallclothes before scurrying under the covers. They never did anything more than give each other light kisses, their hands staying above their waists before falling asleep. It was as if they both were afraid to go back to that all consuming need they had experienced before. With the intensity of the Fade still on their minds, they both needed something gentle and uncomplicated.

That didn't mean that Fenris didn't wake up hard and aching, Anders' scent in his nose, the blonde's skin under his hands. Fenris awoke before Anders did, the mage preferring to sleep in as much as possible before he was forced to rouse to go to the infirmary. He would take his time before getting up from the bed, his eyes moving over Anders' sleeping face.

It wasn't lost on Fenris that Vengeance and Anders had chosen to make Anders a magister-one that would go out of his way to help. He would lay there in bed, watching the way Anders' breaths came out in soft puffs between parted lips. Anders in the Fade had wanted to spare Fenris from the pain the ritual would cause him. He had challenged Danarius, despite being in the magister's own house. That none of it was real made no difference. The Fade could not change Anders' core being. It could not change that bare fact that Anders was willing to sacrifice himself to make sure that Fenris wouldn't suffer.

He glanced at Anders in his periphery. The mage was leading a small lesson about the best way to mend broken bones on the battlefield. Three young wardens with the promise of becoming healers huddled near him, their gazes rapt as he spoke.

The soft pull of Anders' magic on his brands was a torture. Each time it slid along his skin and settled in his groin, Fenris had to will himself to calm down. The memory of the afternoon they had shared still clung to his mind, taunting him with what he could have if he just took it. The taint had settled, but he still felt anger and the need to mark Anders as his own, fucking the mage into the mattress until Anders screamed loud enough the whole keep knew whose he was.

Fenris couldn't lie to himself anymore about his feelings for Anders. It had begun so slowly, that one day he had woken up to the mage's sleeping face, and he had just known. Anders had come to mean more to him than anyone else. If actions did speak louder than words, then Anders had shown Fenris time and again that he loved him.

Hadn't Fenris shown the same thing?

His eyes narrowed and his thoughts scattered. The linen in his hands tore, the edges fraying and splintering. One of the wardens—what was his name?—had a hand on Anders'. He was slowly caressing up and down Anders' back, his face uplifted and smiling at something the mage said.

Fenris saw red. It descended on him in a haze, and he was on his feet before he knew what he was doing.

* * *

"So you want to make sure that the bone is set before you heal it," Anders said. He illustrated his point on the leg bone of a pig he had collected from the kitchens. He put the pieces together and mimicked casting a spell. "Start with the bone first. If it has broken through the skin, you might need help in pushing it back in. Make sure you pull out any pieces that have splintered off. That's very important."

He felt a touch on his back and turned a startled look on Christopher. The young warden had been relentless in his pursuit of Anders. It didn't matter that he had told him he was not interested. He would use any excuse to touch Anders, giving him looks that was meant to seduce. It reminded Anders of his seduction of Karl. The older mage had balked at first, but Anders hadn't taken no for an answer in his youthful zeal. He felt guilty now he knew how it felt. But he hadn't pushed Karl the way Christopher was pushing Anders.

The smell of leather and the oil used to polish a sword wafted behind him, giving him the only warning he had. The hand on his back disappeared and he was spun around to face Fenris. The elf was angry, and he had Christopher's wrist in a punishing grip, his lips peeled back from his teeth.

"Is it necessary to touch your teacher to learn?" he asked the younger man, his voice deathly quiet. The infirmary had gone silent, the attention of the other wardens drawn to the spectacle playing out before them.

Christopher's brown eyes widened in fear, and they darted back and forth between Fenris and Anders. "No… I—"

"Then do not touch him. If I see it again, I'll take your hand. You do it once more, and I'll take them both." Fernis leaned in close, giving Christopher no chance to look anywhere else but at the elf. "He does not want you. Do I make myself clear?"

Anders sucked in a quick breath. He froze in shock, unable to act at first. Fenris was jealous. A part of him reveled in it, but the other part, the ration part— _yes_ he did have one—was horrified. Fenris couldn't go around and threaten everyone who he thought—rightly or wrongly—was hitting on him.

He touched the back of Fenris' neck, his fingers stroking the skin there. "Let him go, Fenris. He meant no harm." He touched Fenris gently like a wild animal as Marian had once done, his voice pitched to sooth. The elf slowly turned his head, his eyes blazing.

"You would stand up for him?" he hissed.

Anders gave him a weak smile. "No. I can't have you breaking him. I need all the healers I can get."

Fenris made a disgusted noise with his tongue and dropped Christopher's hand. The young warden cradled it to his chest and shot Anders a grateful look. Fenris saw it and opened his mouth, but Anders tightened his fingers on his neck, urging him to walk away.

"We'll continue the lesson tomorrow," Anders called to the wardens, as he pushed Fenris towards the door. Fenris didn't hesitate, allowing Anders to move him away from Christopher and out of the infirmary.

They didn't speak until they were across the keep and moving up the stairs towards the west wing, where their rooms resided. "What's the matter with you?" Anders asked. "You can't just attack someone like that. It's why you're in trouble with Aedan in the first place. Do you _want_ to be punished?"

Fenris brushed Anders' hand off his neck. "Don't. I saw the way he was looking at you. Am I supposed to ignore it?" They reached the top of the stairs and Fenris kept moving, leaving Anders to trail along behind him.

"You're supposed to let me deal with it. Despite popular belief, I _am_ a grown man and can make my own decisions. I don't need you to do this…" he waved his hands at Fenris' back as he sputtered. "This alpha male thing. Christopher would have given up eventually and moved on to someone else."

Fenris pushed open the door to his room when they reached it with such force, it banged against the wall. He stood in the middle of the room, his hands clenched and his head bowed. "I cannot bear the sight of another touching you. I have spent the last two weeks with his eyes on you. He's lucky I haven't plucked them from his skull."

"Don't." Anders parodied what Fenris always said to him. Closing the door, he moved to wrap his arms around the elf, his chest to Fenris' back. He could feel the tension along his spine, and he rubbed his hands up and down Fenris' arms. "No one is going to take me from you. I'm not so fickle."

"Do not lie," Fenris muttered. "I have heard the stories from your time in the circle."

"Now you are being deliberately provoking. I'm not going to give you the fight you want." He dropped his arms and sat down on the bed. "Go find Aedan if you want that." He scratched at the stubble along his jaw, considering. "In fact, now that I think on it, maybe that's why you two don't get along. You both have the temper of an enraged orc." He put a finger to his lips, a gleam in his eyes. Fenris was right when he had said that Anders used humor when he was uncertain or uncomfortable. It didn't seem he could help himself.

"I wonder if he's as built as an orc as yo—" Anders found himself pushed back on the bed, Fenris looming over him.

"Do not speculate on the Warden-Commander's genitals," Fenris demanded. "Now who's being provoking?"

The world held its breath as they stared at each other. Anders licked his lips, his eyes drooping almost shut. This was what he wanted from Fenris, not the gentle elf that clutched Anders to him at night after chaste kisses. They had been dancing around each other for weeks, and Anders was tired of it.

"Maybe I am," he admitted. "Is that such a bad thing?" He lifted his head and crushed Fenris' lips to his own. The elf immediately responded with a ferocity that bordered on overwhelming. Anders wasn't the only one sick of the dance.

Anders slid his hands up Fenris' back, his fingers bunching the material of his tunic and pulling until he could touch bare flesh. Tracing the raised skin of Fenris' brands, he moaned as the elf pushed up at his robes, his nails scratching along Anders' chest.

That slight bit of pain that Fenris gave him was heady. After the afternoon they had spent together, Anders hadn't healed any mark on his body, reveling in each sting hours later. He had never thought that Fenris would be any other way. The elf was too intense for a gentle lovemaking.

Fenris leaned back and whipped his tunic off, tossing it behind him to the floor. He moved away from Anders far enough to pull at the ties to his leggings. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, lifting his hips and paused. "If you don't want this, leave now."

Scrambling to off the bed, Anders laughed. He removed his coat and robes, adding them to the pile on the floor. "Are you insane? I've waited too long for this." He hopped on his feet as he pulled his boots off.

Fenris gave Anders a small grin and slipped his leggings off. He knelt on the bed and pulled a naked Anders back onto the mattress. The mage crashed on top of him, and he stopped himself from crushing Fenris by slamming his palms on the bed. They both drew in sharp breaths as their cocks rubbed against each other. Anders rubbed a hand along Fenris' neck and chest.

"I love you," he whispered. Anders yelped in surprise as Fenris growled and rolled them over, taking the dominate position once again.

"You're an idiot," Fenris mumbled against Anders' skin. His tongue and teeth created a path of pleasure along Anders' collarbone.

"If it means I get more of this—ugh—then I'm the biggest idiot in Thedas."

Fenris ran his hands up Anders' thighs, spreading them and urging the mage to wrap his legs around his waist. He coaxed a gasp out of Anders when he rolled his hips, their pricks rubbing against each other in a delicious slide of hard, leaking flesh. Anders clutched at Fenris' ass, pulling him closer as he panted into the elf's mouth.

"What do you want, Anders?" Fenris asked, his voice husky with need. He moved again, and Anders could feel the rolling motion of his muscles under his fingertips. He threw back his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"You," he groaned.

Fenris nipped at Anders' jaw. "That goes without saying. Tell me, mage." Fenris hardly ever called him that anymore, but when he did it this time, it had the sound of possessiveness to it. The elf slid down Anders' body, his mouth moving over his chest. He grasped a pink nipple between his teeth and bit down, his tongue lashing at the sensitive flesh he had trapped.

"Oh, Maker!" Anders tried to twist away. The feeling was almost too much, but Fenris clamped his hands on Anders' sides, pinning him to the bed, forcing him to take it.

"What do you want, Anders," Fenris demanded once more. He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. At the same time, he moved his taut abdomen over Anders' dick. Anders gave a hoarse shout, his cock throbbing in time with his abused nipples and leaving streaks of precum on Fenris' skin.

"I want to come," Anders babbled. "Please let me come, Fenris."

He felt Fenris' smile against his chest. "No," he rumbled.

Only Fenris had the ability to reduce Anders to a quivering ball of need so quickly and utterly. The elf was magnetic, drawing Anders out to do and say things he would have never done with another.

He felt Fenris moving and opened his eyes. He looked down his body to see the elf's head disappear between his legs. Fenris gazed at Anders as his tongue traced each vein on the mage's cock.

"What do you want, Anders." Fenris cupped his sac and rolled them gently between his fingers. His tongue darted into the leaking slit of his prick, gathering up all the slick liquid collecting there.

"Your mouth you bastard," Anders moaned, the insult lacking any heat. His body jerked as Fenris raked his teeth along his shaft.

"Not good enough." He lifted Anders' thighs, his hands gripping his ass and spreading him open. The wet path that Fenris laved between his balls and entrance had Anders gripping the sheets, twisting them in his hands. He nudged at the mage's sac with his nose, lifting them high against his dick. Anders couldn't catch a breath, his chest rising and falling while his heart hammered in his ears.

"Please, Fenris. Please," he begged. "Suck my cock. I need it. Just—" he cried out as Fenris complied. His lips formed a tight seal around his prick, the elf's cheeks hollowing out. Anders slipped his fingers through Fenris' hair, grabbing onto the silky strands He fought not to push him back where he needed him most as Fenris pulled away.

"Good boy, you beg so well." He ran his tongue over his lip and engulfed Anders once more.

If Fenris wanted to hear Anders beg, then he would beg. He would debase himself in any way that Fenris wanted, as long as he kept doing _that_ thing—that wonderful thing with his tongue. It stroked up Anders' shaft, curling around the head of his cock.

And, Maker, his hands, those callused hands that could take life so easily, cupped his balls, playing with them in nimble fingers. Anders went incoherent, his words meaningless nothings that poured from his lips.

"Fuck, more. Do it… Maker… Uhn…Love…" Anders clenched and released the muscles in his ass rhythmically as he fought the urge to thrust.

Fenris lifted his head, a string of precum connecting his lips to his cock. He licked his lips again, gathering up the slick substance with a heated glance, as if it were the most delicious thing that the elf had ever tasted. Anders' dick jerked wetly in response. He had never seen anything so hot in his life.

The elf placed two fingers against Anders' lips and pushed them past his teeth. "Suck," he commanded. "Get them nice and wet for me. Suck them like you're going to make them come." He growled under his breath before sliding his lips back over Anders.

Anders bobbed his head, his tongue moving between the digits in his mouth and saturating them with saliva. Fenris abruptly pulled them away and Anders dropped his head back to the bed. A wet finger circled his entrance and he forced himself to relax. It pushed in as Fenris swallowed him whole, taking him down until his nose was pressed into the wiry hair at the base of his shaft.

He lifted his legs and hooked them over his forearms, opening himself for the elf. His toes curled and his thighs shook as Fenris crooked a finger, searching for that one spot in Anders that would set off sparks. It was almost too dry, the saliva not nearly enough to make the fit easy. But Anders didn't care when Fenris rubbed against that sweet place deep inside him.

When he found it Anders cried out the elf's name, uncaring of who would hear him. With the mouth on his dick and the finger in his ass, Anders was stroked inside and out. His fingernails dug into his thighs, and he began to babble again, begging Fenris with everything he had.

"Please, Fenris. I want to come, please let me—fuck—come. Please. I'll do anything. Pleasepleasepleaseplease…"

Anders' body bowed back when Fenris pushed another finger inside him to join the first. He felt wonderfully stretched and full, but he knew that Fenris was so much bigger than a mere two fingers. His balls made the climb towards orgasm, and Fenris pulled on them gently, drawing them back down again. Anders made a primal sound of need deep in his throat.

His arms and legs trembled as he became mindless, his body an instrument that only Fenris knew the tune for, playing him with his fingers like a master. He wouldn't let Anders come until the song was finished.

Fenris pulled his mouth off of Anders with a wet pop. He rose above the mage and his eyes- fierce and piercing-fixed on Anders. His pupils were dilated, almost swallowing the green of his irises. Reaching over to the bedside table, Fenris fumbled with the drawer, showing for the first time how much he was also affected. He found what he was looking for and opened a small bottle.

The smell of elfroot permeated the room. Anders laughed. "So that's where it went. Did you steal that from the infirmary?"

Fenris poured a generous amount on his palm and set the bottle down. "It's not stealing if I made it. I had to cut the damned things." He stroked his shaft and coated it liberally. He threw his head back, groaning, and Anders let out a moan of his own. Seeing Fenris touch himself did something to Anders. He loved the way the elf looked, so unrestrained in his desire.

Switching hands, Fenris reached between Anders' thighs and shoved a slick finger into him. "Hold yourself open," Fenris demanded when Anders almost let his legs go. "Show me how much you want it."

Another finger joined the first, but Anders' eyes were on the languid movement of Fenris' hand on his cock. The elf squeezed the head on each upstroke, savoring the feeling before moving back down again. He rocked his hips into his encircled fingers, gasping in pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, mage. Let me hear it." His breath rasped out between parted lips.

"I want your cock. I want it so bad. Give it to me, Fenris, please. Give it to me." Their eyes locked as Fenris added a third finger, prying the mage open.

"You want my cock in your ass?" Fenris asked. "You want my dick inside you, reaming you out?" The elf's voice wrapped around Anders' mind, saying the things he had always wanted to hear.

"Fuck, yes," he gasped. "Shove your cock in me. I want it. Please."

Fenris removed his fingers and settled himself between the mage's legs. He braced himself over Anders with one hand-the other held his prick, rubbing it along Anders' gaping entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, that you'll be reminded of it for days. Every time someone else touches you, you'll remember me." He crushed their lips together, his tongue forcing its way inside Anders' mouth, mimicking the push of his cock in Anders' ass. Anders opened his mouth wide, passively giving Fenris what he wanted as the elf bottomed out inside him.

Finally.

The feeling of completeness brought tears to his eyes. He had wanted Fenris for so long, that it overwhelmed him. He blinked rapidly, fighting the sting at the backs of his eyes off. They both froze, their breath see-sawing out of parted lips. The reality of what was happening swept away the intensity. Fenris carefully dropped his weight down, bracing his forearms against the bed. He cradled Anders' face in his hands, his eyes searching.

"I love you."

Anders' sucked in a shuddering breath. Fenris started to move without giving him a chance to reply. The elf's hips pulled back and then snapped forward, driving into Anders. Losing the grip on his legs, Anders wrapped them around Fenris' hips, digging his heels into the small of the elf's back.

They fell into a rhythm, their bodies flowing against each other. The bed creaked angrily under them, and Anders had to slap his palms on the headboard above him, bracing himself as he slid back. Sweat rolled down Fenris' face, his pace picking up.

"You'll take what I give you," his voice rasped into Anders' ear, the gentleness of earlier forgotten under the ferocity of his need. "Is this what you wanted, mage?" He angled his hips and surged forward, Anders yelling in pleasure as his prick stroked over the right place inside him. "My cock making you mine? Will you take it anywhere, at anytime? Maybe I'll bend you over that table in the infirmary, make that little asshole watch while you cream yourself for me."

Anders head thrashed on the pillow and dislodged his hair from its tie. He didn't know what was better, the pictures Fenris was painting with that voice—that _voice_ —or the relentless cock inside him, pushing him, driving him towards climax.

His own dick was trapped between their bodies. Each advance and retreat of Fenris' hips rolled along his shaft. Rutting into the elf's abdomen, he could feel his balls drawing up tightly once more.

This time Fenris wasn't there to stop it.

"I'm going to come—Maker—I'm going to—" He cried out when Fenris bit down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin.

"Come for me, Anders. I want to hear you scream." Fenris licked a line up the column of Anders' throat, his voice breathy in his ear.

That was all it took. Anders' felt the coil inside him snap and he came, screaming the elf's name. His come shot out, smearing across both their chests as his cock twitched.

Fenris gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He gave a few hard, short strokes and shuddered, filling Anders with his seed. He collapsed on the mage, their lips meeting for a slow, languid kiss.

"Say it again," Anders pleaded, his voice hoarse.

"I love you," Fenris whispered into his lips.

  
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	21. Chapter 21

Anders awoke to kisses peppered along the back of his neck. Fenris was tucked tightly behind him, his right arm thrown across the mage's waist, their legs tangled. They had made love-fucked, whatever label one wanted to put on it—two more times during the night.

Since they had missed the dinner bell, Anders had tiptoed down to the kitchens. The keep housed over a hundred wardens at any given time-hungry wardens. Aedan employed an army of cooks to keep the kitchens going without stop. Nothing was going to get between a hungry warden and his food. It was better than allowing the them to raid the larder, decimating any order.

They had dined on cold meat and cheese before the food had been swept away, their bodies coming together once more. Anders had climaxed that time bent over a chair, his fingers digging into the upholstery and Fenris' voice in his ear, urging him on.

Anders reached back and ran his fingers over the elf's naked hip. The third time Fenris had taken him slowly with Anders braced against the wall. Fenris had been uncharacteristically quiet. He had used his hands to speak for him, sweeping them over the broad expanse of the mage's back and chest with gentle touches. Anders' orgasm, when it came, caught him off guard. The buildup had been so agonizingly slow, that he hadn't seen it coming until he was already crying out, his cock jerking.

Stretching, Anders luxuriated in the twinges of his muscles and rolled over with a sleepy smile on his face. "G'morning," he croaked. His throat felt raw and scratchy.

Fenris moved closer and gave Anders a kiss. "Good morning," he said against his lips. That was the thing about Fenris, the elf was one of those people that could just wake up and be ready for the day. Anders needed time for his brain to catch up with his body. His eyes were wide and aware and he lacked the muzzy-headedness that permeated Anders. It hadn't always been that way. When Justice had been present, Anders had woken well before dawn most days to open the clinic. He'd also slept little and barely ate.

Touching a small bite mark on Anders throat, Fenris' lips twitched in a self satisfied smile. Anders mentally rolled his eyes. The elf had made sure to leave marks were his robes couldn't cover them.

_Not that I'm complaining, mind._

It was strange not to have an audience to his inner monologues. Justice had been a presence that provided commentary and advice—but most often censure. He still wasn't use to it. It made him feel uncertain in his thoughts without someone there. It was better this way. Anders felt freer then he had in a very long time. He had never noticed the heaviness that Justice had added to his soul. Now that the spirit was gone, he felt lighter.

He still hated the templars-that would never change. But his thoughts now his own, Anders didn't see the same need for radical change that Justice had. He felt proud of what he and Justice had accomplished in Kirkwall. They had freed mages imprisoned for doing nothing more than being what they were. There needed to be reform in the circles and in the chantry, and Anders meant to see that happen in his lifetime.

But that didn't have to be spurred on by blowing up the house of the Maker.

Justice had given Anders the tools to see his fellow mages have a better life, and he would use them in the spirit's name. The Ferelden circle was different than when Anders had been there. If Aedan hadn't been blowing smoke, then Anders was going to use him to bend the king's ear. He had a chance to turn the Ferelden circle into something more. If his ideas were successful, maybe, just maybe, it could be used as a model for the other circles in Thedas.

His stomach rumbled.

But more importantly, he was starving. He craned his neck to look out the arrow slit that served as a window. Judging by the light, dawn had broken hours ago. He blew an indigent breath and his tangled hair fluttered around his face.

Fenris cast the same glance at the window. "We're late. I should have been at the practice yard by now."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I shudder to think what they've done to the infirmary in my absence." Anders put actions to words and shivered. "Real world calls, love." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Fenris caught his arm and Anders turned his head to peer at the elf over his shoulder.

Anders had noticed when Fenris had started spending his afternoons in the infirmary that he had a piece of strong tied to his wrist. They had never spoken of it, but it had given him hope to see a piece of himself that Fenris kept close by.

"We need to speak. Things are still not clear to me as to what Aedan plans."

Placing his hand over the one on his arm, Anders gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I know. Come to the dining hall after the dinner bell." He held up his hand to forestall any objections. Fenris never ate in the dining hall with the other wardens, preferring to eat on the run, or in his room. The elf was too use to being cut off. The wardens didn't work like that. They wouldn't continue to give him the space that his friends in Kirkwall had afforded him. Eventually, they would come looking for him.

"Just come. It's not just my story to tell." Anders made a face. "Maker knows I wish it _wasn't_ my story at all. You have no idea how disgusting a broodmother is. It's one thing to hear about them, quite another to see one and those nipples in all its glory."

Fenris let out small, breathy laugh and released him. "Do you realize you often make little sense?"

"You say that _now_ ," Anders said as he stood and searched the floor for his clothes. "But I have eyewitnesses that can vouch for me. I'm going to need that if you want to know about the Architect." He plucked his robes off the corner of Fenris' dresser and slipped them on.

"Shit, where are my smalls?" He dropped to his hands and knees and swept an arm under the bed. Something dropped on his head and he reached up to pull his smallclothes from his face.

"They were tangled in the blanket." Fenris slipped from the bed naked and stretched. Anders felt his mouth go dry as he watched all those lean muscles moving under olive skin. Fenris' brands lovingly traced the curves of his body, accentuating them. Anders bit his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the elf. He would never get tired of looking at Fenris naked.

 _Who would?_ he asked himself. _I mean_ look _at him._

If Fenris noticed Anders' gaze, he didn't show it as he unselfconsciously walked to his dresser and opened it to pull out clean clothes.

Fenris had cajoled the quartermaster into giving him black clothes instead of the regulation blue and silver. Anders didn't know how he had done it, but so far, the elf had gotten away with not dressing like the others in the keep. When Anders had been at Vigil's Keep before, Cousland hadn't cared about how they had dressed. He still fondly remembered his Tevinter robes, and mourned the need to burn them along with the body that was supposed to have been his.

The way Aedan had been acting lately, Anders foresaw a new set of armor in Fenris' future. Taking away his old armor had been just the start. He just hoped Fenris wouldn't balk and see it as a way for Aedan to control him, and not as the assimilation that Aedan wanted.

Anders hiked up his robes and pulled his smallclothes on. He dropped them and scooped his pants up from the floor. He would have to make a trip to his room in the east wing before he could show his face in the infirmary. He needed to perform his morning ablutions and collect a clean set of clothes.

"I'm going to have a line waiting for me," he grumbled as he laced his boots. "I have to go back to my room first."

"You know," Fenris said mildly, his back to Anders as he slipped on a tunic. "You could always share this room with me. It is closer to the infirmary."

Anders lowered his hands from his boot and stared at Fenris' back while the elf combed his hair. "You want me to move in with you?" He blinked. They had spent every afternoon and evening together for weeks now. Anders practically lived here already. But for Fenris,-as private as he was- to offer to permanently share his space…

He realized he had waited too long to speak when Fenris carefully set his comb back down on the dresser, his movements slow and measured. "If you do not wish it, then forget I offered."

"No!" Anders winced when he shouted and tried again. "No. I do. You just… surprised me." A thought occurred to him. "Can I bring Pounce?"

Fenris sighed and turned, the tension in his shoulders becoming visibly looser. "The feline can come as well." He shook out a pair of leggings and slipped them onto long legs.

"Well then." Anders knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he couldn't help himself. "I'll bring my things by tonight."

* * *

Fenris focused on the bowl of stew in front of him. He tore a chunk out of the loaf of bread in his hands and dunked it in the bowl. He could feel the eyes of the other wardens at the long table on him, and he resisted the urge to look up.

Howe he knew, the archer giving him a small smile when he and Anders had appeared after the dinner bell. As much as Howe had done for him and Anders, he had seen very little of the man since coming to the keep.

All the tables had been full to bursting as hungry wardens filled the room. The fact that there had been two empty seats at the table that held nothing but Anders' old friends, told the elf that the mage had informed them they were coming.

The only one missing was Isabela. She had said good bye earlier in the day, citing boredom now that Anders and Fenris had 'survived their Rite of Joining,' and 'drank from each other's tainted cups.' She had gone back to her ship and crew, with promises she would say hello to Hawke for them when she made it back to Kirkwall.

He wasn't sure what to expect from such an eclectic group. There were two dwarves, an elf and Howe. Oghren he had a passing acquaintance with, but he had only met Sigrun and Velanna the afternoon before going into the Fade to save Anders.

"So," Howe said slowly to break the staring contest they were having with Fenris' bowed head. "How are you adjusting?"

It was an innocent question, one meant to start inane small talk. It wasn't that Fenris didn't appreciate the sentiment, but they all knew that Fenris hadn't adjusted well. Everyone in the room knew about the elf that had beaten one opponent after another in the yard, and—consequently- almost killed the Warden-Commander's lover.

Fenris raised his eyes, his gaze skipping over the others and stopping at Howe. He sat at one end of the table, while Fenris took the other. Anders was to his right, and Sigrun his left. Oghren sat next to Anders-who was leaning as far back from the noxious dwarf as he could get—and Velanna was across from him.

"Well enough." There, he could make small talk when called upon.

It was—of course—Oghren who ruined it.

"I'll say. There's talk you could hear Sparkle Fingers singing your praises to the Maker last night." He tipped the tankard in his hand back and swallowed, some of the ale spilling out onto his beard to join the remains of his meal.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, a dull flush creeping up his neck. "I know a dwarf, you and he act nothing alike."

"That's because there's only one Oghren." The dwarf belched and Anders leaned further back, pushing his food away in disgust.

"You're friends with a dwarf?" Sigrun asked, her face full of bright curiosity.

"He's in Kirkwall," Anders supplied. "Varric Tethras."

Oghren threw back his head and laughed. "Tethras? They use to be nobles until the father got caught fixing Provings. They fled to the surface like cowards." He took another long drink. "Disgrace to dwarves everywhere."

"You are a fine example of a dwarf, I'm sure," Fenris said dryly.

Pausing in taking yet another drink, Oghren screwed up his face. "There's an insult in there, I can just feel it." The others at the table were captivated, their eyes moving back and forth from Fenris to Oghren.

"Drink some more. I'm sure it will come to you." Fenris bit into his bread and chewed, savoring the yeasty, fluffy taste. Aedan not only made sure his men were well fed, but that they didn't eat slop.

"Now I'm sure of it." Oghren slammed his tankard down on the table, sloshing ale on the scarred wood. "You seem sure of yourself, elf. Maybe I should come sometime to the practice yard and show these young pups how a real Grey Warden fights. We could have a match."

"If you can find it," Fenris murmured around a mouth full of stew. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sigrun slap a hand over her mouth and giggle.

"A _real_ Grey Warden?" Anders asked despite himself. "As opposed to the fake ones? Who would want to fake being a warden? With all the glory of being in the Deep Roads, the darkspawn and screaming in terror—can't forget that—I can see the appeal, but…" He spread his hands helplessly.

Velanna and Sigrun burst into laughter and even Howe smiled. Oghren just gave them a disgruntled sniff. "All I'm saying is that he's never fought me. There's no challenge in trying to take down wardens who have just passed the Joining." He ignored the fact that Fenris had just survived _his_ Joining.

"Then by all means," Fenris said. "I'll look forward to it." It came to him that Oghren wasn't trying to be cruel. This was the way the dwarf made friends. As battle worn and crusty as he was, Oghren would never have offered if he genuinely thought Fenris wasn't worth his time.

Fenris didn't make friends easily. He had been sequestered away from the other slaves when he had been with Danarius. In Kirkwall, he had only just arrived when he had met Hawke, and the woman had taken it upon herself to make him feel included.

The only friends he had made on his own had been the Fog Warriors, and he had betrayed their trust in him. He hadn't wanted to get close to another, instead choosing to remain alone, or else chance turning on them if he wasn't strong enough to face Danarius again. The wardens were different. Fenris was different. For Anders, he would try and befriend them, the way he had befriended—in his own way—those that Hawke cared about.

He saw a little bit of himself in Oghren. He didn't delude himself into thinking that the wine he use to consume in his mansion wasn't dangerous. He could have easily broken his neck on the ramshackle stairs, or fallen through the floor in a drunken stupor. He was ashamed about how much alcohol he had drank, as he whiled away the hours waiting for his former master to come for him.

Hawke had known he was sure of it. She made sure to include him as much as possible on her quests, drawing him from his house and giving him little time to drink. He had always been thankful to her for it, even though they had never spoken about it.

It was Anders who pulled him out of his thoughts. "Aedan wants to bring Fenris to the Architect." He spoke quietly so those at nearby tables would not hear him. "He needs to know what he's getting into."

"Or why you object," Nate said shrewdly.

"Where to begin?" Velanna wondered.

"From the beginning," Fenris told her. He glanced at Anders. "And give me the non-Varric version. I need facts, not embellishments."

"So you don't want to hear about how I slayed three broodmothers on my own-blindfolded?" Anders pouted, making him appear childish. "Fine, but the truth is more horrifying and I cry like a little girl through most of it."

"That's different how?" Oghren asked.

* * *

By the time they had finished their story, each taking turns to fill in gaps in each other's memory, the room had cleared out, leaving them alone in the cavernous hall.

Fenris propped his elbows on the table, his fingers steppled below his chin. "He still lives then?"

"More than lives. He's thriving," Howe supplied. "For the past several years, he periodically sends for Aedan to exchange information. Aedan says he does it to make sure the Architect's recent experiments don't set off another blight, but I think there is something more to it."

Velanna cleared her throat. "I would know that one." She leaned forward, whispering even though they were the only ones in the room. "He's hoping the Architect will hit upon a way to negate the Calling. If the darkspawn can resist the lure of an old god, then why can't the wardens resist the Calling?"

Oghren let out a low whistle. "Makes sense. But what happens to us? Do we'll still turn into slavering ghouls?"

Fenris drummed his fingers on the table. He hadn't been happy when he had heard about the Calling. Thirty years had been more than he's had, but Anders had been a warden for longer. There was going to come a time when Fenris was going to have to let the mage go, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It's all just conjecture at this point," Velanna continued. "But I think Aedan feels some guilt about it. He will gladly send his men to die in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn, but to ask them to join when they might not survive, only to die in thirty years when they do?"

"If this Architect is knowledgeable enough about arcane and forgotten paths of magic, then he might just know what was done to me." Fenris felt a bubble of hope rise in his chest. He had always feared that Danarius would never reveal the whys of what was done to him. Or that Fenris would be forced to kill him before finding out.

"I think you've missed the part where he's a talking darkspawn, love." The endearment slipped out and Fenris shot him a glare. As big of strides as they had made in their relationship, public displays of affection were pushing it for the private elf.

"I did not miss it. I will take my chances when the time comes."

Anders threw up his hands, conceding defeat. "Aedan better take me with you. I'm not letting you go alone."

"Well isn't that cute," Oghren said in a sickly sweet voice. "I think I just might puke."

"It's all the ale you've drank," Anders pointed out.

"That too," Oghren agreed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all that have been reading! I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I am writing it.

It was almost nightfall by the time the wagon stopped at the keep. The draft horses snorted, tossing their large heads. The driver jumped down and rubbed his hands over their necks as he waited for the guards to open the gates.

Devlin was a small time brewer made big by serving one customer only. His family brewed ale for the wardens of Vigil's Keep and had for a number of years now. Once a week he made the trip personally to deliver the massive kegs. When his sons were older he would bring them with him and introduce them to the Warden-Commander himself. He took his job seriously. He never spoke about the Grey Wardens to outsiders, preferring instead to remain silent about the group that had brought his family so much prosperity.

He rubbed at his bad knee. It ached when he sat for too long in the same spot. The ride from the City of Amaranthine to the keep was a long one when you drove a laden down wagon. The journey took twice as long as it should, and every bump in the road after the first few hours sent a jolt through his leg. He'd heard there was a new healer in the keep. Maybe the Warden-Commander would do an old friend a favor and let him look at Devlin's knee. His sons were young yet to be taking over the delivery and his apprentices too green. He had many slow, jolting rides to look forward to yet.

The wind picked up and Devlin wrapped his cloak tighter around himself as he shivered. He sent a covert glance towards his wagon. He shouldn't have picked up the passenger, his conscience chided. It wasn't as if he needed the gold he'd been paid. But he'd been so persuasive, that before Devlin knew it, he had hopped up onto the back of the wagon and made himself at home amidst the lashed down barrels. Well, Devlin wasn't going to hide the fact that he was there. If he was looking to sneak into the keep, he had another thing coming.

The gates groaned and shuddered as they began to rise. A warden on the parapet above him yelled down a greeting at Devlin and he waved back. Devlin scratched at his balding crown, disturbing wispy blonde hairs so they fluffed around his head like a chick's feathers. He patted the dagger on his hip, feeling its reassuring weight. Devlin may have been getting on in years, but no one was going to catch him off guard, not even a smooth talking passenger.

He walked to the gate when it had reached high enough for him to step through it safely, and nodded at the warden that came to meet him. "Conner," Devlin said, clasping the man's forearm in his own. He and Conner had known each other for years. Conner was always there to greet Devlin and make small talk, while they wait for the younger recruits to come and lead the wagon to the back of the kitchens. As old as Devlin was, Conner's dark hair had fared better over the year, even if it boasted more grey.

"I ought to tell ya, Conner. I picked up a passenger that wanted a ride to the keep. Says he has a message for one of yours." Devlin shoved his thumb over his shoulder to point at the wagon.

Conner frowned. "Did ya now?" He stroked his chin with his fingers. "Let's see who you've got." His walk was casual, but he placed a hand on the sword at his side. They rounded the wagon together to find the passenger had already disembarked.

"Finally. Not that I'm complaining mind, but that was quite a ride." The beardless dwarf straightened his tunic, brushing off the dust from the road. "Better than walking, that's for sure."

Conner shot Devlin a look as they approached. He didn't know what to make of him anymore than Devlin had. "If I may, please state your name and business," the warden asked. His tone wasn't threatening, but it wasn't welcoming either.

"Varric Tethras." The dwarf gave a small bow. "I've come to visit some friends."

* * *

"What could he want from us?" Anders asked for the third time as he and Fenris walked to Aedan's office. They had been summoned from the dining hall before either could finish their meals. Anders had a horrible feeling he knew what Aedan wanted from them.

They were going to see the Architect.

Fenris was thinking the same thing, if his hurried strides were any indication. Three days had passed since Fenris had decided that the Architect was his best bet-outside of Danarius-to find out what had happened to him and why. The elf constantly spoke of it, asking Anders incessant questions about the darkspawn and his knowledge. Questions Anders couldn't answer. His dealings with the Architect had been—thankfully—short lived.

He also seemed just as interested in what Velanna had said about maybe finding a way to resist the Calling. Anders didn't think there was any validity to it. They were going to turn into ghouls, Calling or no. At least the Calling provided a warning bell before you started to slobber and attack your friends.

They stopped at Aedan's door and Fenris raised his hand to knock. He paused when he heard muffled laughter. His eyebrows drew down sharply as he rapped on the heavy wood. The laughter cut off and there was a murmured command to enter. Pushing open the door, Fenris and Anders saw the last thing they had been expecting.

Varric sat on a chair in front of Aedan's perpetually cluttered desk. He had a tankard which he raised in greeting when they entered. "Broody, Blondie, there you are!" Zevran sat next to the dwarf, a laugh on his lips when he saw the astonishment on their faces.

Fenris put his hand over his eyes. "If I count to ten very slowly, will he still be there?"

"Oh, Broody," Varric admonished. "You should know you can't get rid of me that easily."

Anders' lips spread in a slow grin. "What are you doing here?" His face fell. "Did something happen to Hawke? What did that asshole do to her? I knew I shouldn't have left, damn it." Zevran vacated his chair and gestured for Anders to sit.

"If something had happened to your friend, I don't think we would be sitting here listening to this delightful dwarf tell tales, no?" He went to the edge of the room and returned with a chair for Fenris, placing it on the other side of Varric.

"Varric was just telling us some _delightful_ stories about you in Kirkwall, Anders." Aedan leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, linking his fingers together. He looked too pleased with himself for Anders comfort.

"First rule of Varric," Anders said as he sat down. "Believe the opposite of whatever comes out of his mouth. Unless it makes me look good, then he's the Paragon of Truthfulness, returned to walk among us mortals."

"There is no Paragon of Truthfulness," Varric pointed out. He took a sip from his tankard, relishing the taste of well made ale. He more than understood why Aedan monopolized Devlin. Already his wheels were turning as he calculated how he could get Devlin to take on a distributer in Kirkwall.

"How would you know?" Fenris sat down, surrendering to the inevitable.

"You're right," the dwarf admitted wryly. "No one in Orzammar would make someone one. Who would revere the poor sod? Not the merchant's guild."

A bark of laughter erupted from Aedan. "You're already earning your title. No truer words have been spoken."

Fenris rubbed at his eyes. He could feel the headache forming behind them. "Why are you here, dwarf?" Varric wouldn't have left the comfort of the Hanged Man, let alone Kirkwall unless it was dire. If it wasn't Hawke, then something else was going on. "Get to the point."

"Well now." Varric sobered and settled back in his chair. "Hawke sent me. We thought it was best if I came in person, than risk sending a letter." He reached into his tunic and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He shrewdly tossed it to Anders.

"Read it out loud. I want to see what you can make of it before telling my story."

Fenris let out a short, thankful breath. He hadn't been able to continue his reading lessons with Hawke, and Anders still did not know that an eight year old had better literacy than he did. It wasn't that he was hiding it from the mage, he just hadn't given it much thought.

"Dog has not taken bone, may not be starving as we thought. Will await further instructions." Anders held the note up. "What is this?"

His eyes widening, Fenris shot to his feet and snatched the note from Anders' fingers. "This in Arcanum." Even though he couldn't read it, his eyes hungrily ate up the familiar scrolling letters.

"Let me see that." Anders tried to pull it from the elf's hands before giving up and reading it over Fenris' shoulder. "So it is. Sorry. Most of the books in the circle are in Arcanum. You get into the habit of translating when you read out loud."

Fenris canted his face towards Anders, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You can understand Arcanum?" Everything he had ever said about the mage-or even _to_ him-flashed in his mind.

"Um, yeah." Anders coughed in his hand. "Haven't I mentioned that before?" Anders knew damn well he had never mentioned it. He had liked the idea of being privy—although secretly—to the things Fenris said. To be honest, _most_ of those things hadn't been flattering to Anders, but he had taken what he could get.

"That," Varric pointed at the note, "was retrieved off the body of a man with no identification and no apparent business in Kirkwall. I couldn't find a single soul who knew him or where he had come from. Just one day poof," he snapped open his hand, "shows up."

"And how did this man end up in his current state?" Zevran was idly leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed.

"Bianca didn't like his tone when I tried to introduce myself." Fondly patting the crossbow on his back, Varric shrugged. "Wasn't her fault. She doesn't like it when people try to stick pointy objects in my belly."

Fenris passed the note to Aedan when the man streatched out his hand for it. "What was he doing that aroused your suspicions?" Fenris started to pace when he heard Varric's answer, moving from one end of the room to the other.

"He was following a package that Hawke was supposed to pass on to you."

"She came?" The elf stopped in mid-stride and spun around to face Varric. "She actually came?" he couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"She?" Aedan asked.

"My sister or I think she is. She could just be an elaborate trap. Maybe she's a well coached slave sent to lower my guard. But it's too obvious. Maybe Danarius is counting on that. If it's too obvious it might be true she's my sister. Or maybe he underestimates me."

His fingers went flying, tapping against the pad of his thumb as his thoughts ran rapid fire. There were too many variables where Danarius was concerned. He knew the key to surviving the man was to anticipate what he would do, and counter it before he could act. More than one of Danarius' enemies had fallen when they hadn't seen the viper they let through their door.

"If she is my sister, then she is in danger just by coming. Danarius must have found out and is hoping she will draw me out in the open. But why now? He has known where I was for years. If he wanted me, he could have come and tried to take me."

"Fenris—" Anders began.

The elf was panting now, his words tumbling out as his thoughts ran together. "If it is her, we have to keep her safe. Danarius won't give up and could use her against me, picking the time and place."

"Fenris—"

"I'll have to kill him. Even if I can't get my answers, there is no other way."

"Fenris!" Anders stepped in front of the elf and Fenris collided with him. Anders steadied him, placing his hands on his shoulders and breaking the elf out of his chaotic musings.

"Sit down. Let's hear what Varric has to say first." He led Fenris to his chair and waited until he sat back down before taking his own seat.

"So," Varric resumed, as if Fenris hadn't just given them all a verbal show to his inner turmoil. "I took the same ship that she did-without her knowledge. She's already in the city. I've paid the stable boys to watch for her. They will report back to me on when she leaves, and who comes to visit her." He nodded at the note on Aedan's desk. "Regardless of who she is, she is being used as bait."

Fenris rested his lips on the knuckles of his clasped hands. "I shouldn't go until she sends word. It will look suspicious if I arrive too soon."

"Or it will give them no time to prepare," Zevran ventured. "I will go tonight and see what I can find. I have contacts in the city." Anders just bet he did. The city was the closest port and the easiest place for those plotting against Aedan to congregate.

"Do it," Aedan ordered. "We'll reconvene here after the lunch bell. I don't like the idea of a magister trying to set up one of my wardens. If he thinks to snatch you back, he's in for a nasty surprise." The hardened look in his eyes reminded Fenris that this man had faced an Archdemon and lived.

Fenris believed it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post these this and the following chapter at the same time, because I felt this one was too much of a cliffhanger. Thank you all for reading!

There were three things that Zevran loved more than life itself: Aedan, having Aedan fuck him, and the thrill of the hunt. They were in no particular order, their priorities changing frequently and arbitrarily. Zevran could lie and say it was the Crows that had taught him the skills for the last two, but he would like to think that it was just in him before he had been sold. Maybe it was a spark of his potential that the Crows had seen, a small ember of his personality that matched the requirements for a good assassin.

One thing he did not like was surprises.

Well, that wasn't completely true. His jaded soul craved the interesting and the new. It invigorated him, just when he thought Thedas had nothing left to offer. What he didn't like, was to be caught off guard in the middle of a mission. Especially in a city he had come to see over the years as his territory.

Stripped of his clothes, he lay on a dirt packed floor. His arms were bound to his waist with rope, and his hands tied behind his back to his feet. He wiggled his fingers to keep circulation going in them, and to get the others in the room use to his slight movements. Blood dried on his face, and he could feel a shallow gash oozing on his right side.

It had been going so well. How hard was it to ride to Amaranthine, go to an inn that he was well acquainted with and make some inquiries? Obviously it was too hard. Maybe he was growing complacent in his old age.

More likely he had forgotten just how devious magisters could really be.

He hadn't noticed the paralysis glyph until he was already caught, his muscles locking up as a flash went off. Thinking back, he should have known better. Magisters didn't rise high in the circles of Tevinter unless they were crafty. He had taken one step-one single step-into the elven woman's room and that was all it took.

His injuries were from the tender care of the slavers before they carted him out the back door of the inn, rolled up in a rug. They had disarmed him and lashed his limbs together like a pig for the slaughter before he was able to react. The heavy rug had stifled his breathing and hidden him from the view of inn's more nocturnal patrons. He had spent the journey to a dank cellar counting silently to gauge the passage of time. Approximately thirty minutes had passed before he was unceremoniously dumped on the ground and unrolled from the rug. Thirty minutes in a radius from the inn could only be one of three areas. The docks he could rule out, he had not heard the sounds of water.

He lay on his injured side and dirt ground into it, causing blades of agony to radiate from the wound. Black robes with blood red trim swirled in his field of vision and Zevran rolled his eyes up. Fenris hadn't been exaggerating, when he had said that the Danarius in the Fade looked nothing like the man in person. From the black beard and hair going grey, to the curious fact that he was half elven, Danarius couldn't look less different from the phantom of the Fade.

"Zevran Arainai," Danarius drew out his name, his lips curling in a smirk. "Not the elf I was looking for, but you'll do. What brings the Hero of Ferelden's whore to an elven woman's room in the early hours of the morning?"

Strong hands lifted him and sat him upright. Zevran rubbed his dirt smeared cheek against his shoulder, stalling for time before he answered. "I haven't slept with you have I?" Zevran screwed his face up as if searching his memory. "No. No, I would have remembered someone like you."

Danarius nodded to one of the slavers and Zevran's head cracked to the side, his jaw throbbing from the blow. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth and he spat at Danarius' feet to get rid of it.

Crouching down in front of Zevran, Danarius grabbed a handful of tangled blonde hair and yanked back, forcing the elf to look at him. "I know who you are. I have acquaintances in Minrathous that have used your services in the past. "

He held out his hand and a knife was slapped hilt first into his palm. Danarius traced the tattoos on Zevran's cheek with the tip of his blade. The point was razor sharp and sliced through the first layer of skin. "Your look is distinct. There was talk of trying to capture you for our own amusement once."

Zevran smiled with bloodstained teeth. "Alas, the Crows would have not liked that. Bad for business to let the clients keep the assassin." He should know. It took him years to get the Crows off his back. He stared at Danarius in his cold eyes. They might as well have been in a tea parlor in Orlais, exchanging gossip about the latest fashions for all the fear he showed.

"But you are not a Crow anymore, are you? You are the property of the Grey Wardens." Danarius tapped the tattoo on Zevran's left hip. Etched in his skin with black ink many years ago, twin griffons reared back in scrolling lines, their back claws outstretched to attack and their wings unfurled, the tips of the feathers wrapped around to caress his hipbone and ass. He'd had to pay good money for someone to do it. No one wanted to use the symbol of the wardens on someone who was so decidedly not one of the Grey.

The look of surprise—then possessive lust-on Aedan's face had been worth every coin.

"There used to be a whore in Denerim who had a griffon tattoo. She was less the property of the wardens and more for lease. What makes you think I'm any different?" The knife moved, sliding over the juncture between his hip and groin. The tip rested dangerously against his balls and Zevran fought to keep his breathing even and slow and his face impassive.

"Because a dwarf from Kirkwall was seen on a brewer's wagon heading towards Vigil's Keep. This same dwarf killed a man of mine. Several hours later, you show up from the keep to break into the room of an elven woman from Tevinter. A woman that I have been following for some time."

Danarius leaned in close enough that Zevran could feel his hot breath on his face. "So tell me, Zevran Arainai, formally of the Antivan Crows, tell me what I would like to know, or we will find out if your Hero will still want you with your balls cut off and hung around your neck."

"You lack imagination if you think my balls are the only thing Aedan likes about me. You are missing my charm and ass. Both of these things you cannot cut off easily." The grip on his hair tightened and Zevran could feel some of his hair pulling sharply from his scalp.

"And _you_ lack imagination if you think either of those things cannot be accomplished easily, especially by a magister of the Imperium." Danarius let go of him and straightened. He held up his hand, palm out, and brought the knife edge to it, slicing into the soft flesh with a quick jerk. Blood welled and power collected in the room, crackling around them.

"Your charm is the least of what I will take. You will give me the answers I seek, and so much more."

* * *

Aedan couldn't sit still. Anders watched the man pace his office and sighed, his fingers curled in Pounce's fur. Some people just didn't know when they needed a cat to pet. With all the pacing that Fenris and Aedan did, it was no wonder they were agitated all the time. Give him a comfy seat and a rumbling, sleepy kitty any day. The tension just seeped out. Cats were the finest creatures the Maker created, and Anders would challenge anyone to find something better. Fenris was just as bad, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. He was unconsciously following the rhythm of Pounce's purr and Anders smiled down at the cat.

 _See? He knows what he needs, even if he won't admit it_ , he said silently to the cat. Pounce blinked up at him as if to say, 'Some people don't understand the wonders of cats.'

Varric sat near Anders, his eyes following the pacing of the human. He raised an eyebrow at Anders and the mage shrugged.

"Something has gone wrong," Aedan said for what was the twelfth time. Anders knew because he had been keeping tally. "He's never late."

"We should not wait any longer. It is almost time for the dinner bell," Fenris said for what was the sixth time. "This does not bode well."

Anders said nothing. Any reassurances he had given had been rebuffed-so he had quit trying. Aedan and Fenris could brood and worry. _Anders_ would stick with Pounce.

It wasn't as if he wasn't concerned—Zevran _had_ been gone for too long—but Aedan wasn't an unbiased party, and Anders didn't want to go off half-cocked to Aramanthine until the man had calmed down.

A raging Aedan wasn't what they needed. Not when lacked information.

The door creaked open and Fenris rose from his seat as Aedan stopped in his tracks. Their faces fell when they saw it was a recruit instead of the blonde elf they had been expecting.

"Ser, Arainai has returned and is in the courtyard. He requests your presence." The man saluted and Anders stifled a smile. All this, 'Yes, ser' and 'No, ser' of Aedan's new Ferelden Grey Wardens seemed a little much at times. Things had indeed changed since he was last here.

"Finally!" Aedan rushed pass the man, with Fenris on his heels. Anders stood up and gently placed Pounce in his warmed seat, following at a more sedate pace with Varric.

The dinner bell rang as they made their way outside, and they had to fight the flow of traffic to the dining hall when the courtyard emptied. Aedan took the stairs out of the keep two at a time, moving swiftly for such a large man. Zevran stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, his arms lax at his sides, his head bowed.

"There you are," Aedan said as he approached the elf. "I was getting worried. Did everything go all right?"

Fenris was the first one to see it and he opened his mouth to give a warning shout. A blade appeared in Zevran's hands, the dying light of the sun glinting off the deadly weapon as it came arcing down, biting deep into Aedan's shoulder. Aedan stared at his lover, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Empty, dead eyes stared back as Zevran ripped the blade free, blood flinging onto Aedan's face.

"My master wants me to give you a message," he said, his voice as toneless and devoid of emotion as his eyes. Aedan staggered back, his hand clutching the wound. He narrowly missed the next strike as Fenris knocked him off balance and took him to the ground.

"You claim what is mine, I claim what is yours." Zevran raised his dagger again and took a step forward. "Give me my property, and you can have yours."

A sheet of ice froze him in mid-step, crackling out from his chest to encase his whole body. Fenris turned his head from where he was covering Aedan, to see Anders' hand outstretched and his staff in a tight grip over his head. Varric had Bianca off his back and primed, the loaded bolt aimed for Zevran's legs.

"Don't know how long this will last," Anders said as he shot another stream of ice at Zevran. "Get Aedan out of here. Go get Velanna. She should be in the dining hall." A sheet of ice cracked and fell to the ground, shattering on impact. Anders cast again, patching the hole.

"Hurry!"

"No!" Aedan pushed Fenris off of him and struggled to his feet. "I'm not leaving him. What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Blood magic. It seems my former master has finally found me." Fenris pulled at Aedan's arm. "We must go. Anders will not be able to hold him for long."

Aedan shook his head rapidly. "No. No… Zev would never—"

"That is not him," Fenris snapped. "If you want to help him, then come with me, now!"

Blood seeped between Aedan's fingers and he took three steps backwards, his eyes on the frozen form of his lover. Aedan's face abruptly cleared, losing the look of shock and panic. His eyes hardened, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth.

"I'm going to rip that bastard apart," he snarled. He turned, and he and Fenris ran back to the keep.

* * *

Velanna and Anders had managed to bind Zevran with spells, immobilizing him and giving Nate, Fenris and Aedan time to carry the assassin down to the dungeon. The three dwarves, Oghren, Varric and Sigrun followed, their weapons ready in case Zevran was able to break free. They needn't have worried. The elf had gone limp, his dead eyes staring blankly ahead when he had been lifted. It was almost as if once the message had been delivered, all the fight had gone out of him.

Anders shuddered to look at the elf that lay passively on the floor of his cell. He reminded Anders of the Tranquil and their emotionless faces. Aedan gripped the bars of the cell door, his knuckles white as he rested his forehead against the cool metal.

"Talk to me, Velanna." It was more a command than a request. "What's happening?"

"Blood magic. I can taste it in the air around him." Her face screwed up in distaste. "There are only three ways to break the magister's hold on him: have the one who cast the spell revoke it, kill the one who cast it, or…" She faltered, but Aedan finished for her.

"Or we kill him." Aedan turned his head and sent a steely glance over his shoulder. "That's not an option."

"We're not saying it is Aedan," Nate assured him. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the dank, stone wall. Tilting his head to the side, his hair falling over one shoulder, Nate's face took on a determined cast. "We'll get the one that did this, but without you."

Anders' gaze flicked back and forth between Nate and Aedan. He took an involuntary step back and noticed he hadn't been the only one to do so. Nathaniel was the second in command of Vigil's Keep. When Aedan left, Nate was in charge. It allowed him a certain freedom to question Aedan that no one else in the keep had-at least not any longer.

"Excuse me?" Aedan said slowly. He swiveled his head to glance over his other shoulder with narrowed eyes.

"You heard me. You're injured and you're angry. The situation is also too dangerous to allow you to walk into it." Anders had to give Nate points for not flinching. That glare wasn't even directed at him, but Anders found himself quaking in his boots.

Aedan pushed himself away from the bars and strode over to Nate. He flung a hand behind him and pointed at Zevran. "But it was alright to allow him to go into it? Or let any of _you_? He did this to Zev, Nate-to fucking _Zev_. I'm the Warden-Commander here, _not_ you."

He got into Nate's space and he rolled his eyes up towards Aedan's without giving ground. "And I'm your second. How do you think it's going to look if you go charging into the city for an elf that isn't even a warden? You gave me this job, Aedan, let me do it."

"Don't give me that," Aedan snorted in derision. "Zev is a warden in all but name only. He's done as much for the wardens-if not more-than half the people in this keep. Don't think I don't know what he's doing on his little trips into the city."

He turned his head when he heard Velanna suck in her breath. "I'm not blind. I pretend I don't know about the people he's killed, or the ones who end up in sudden disgrace. I cannot be seen to sanction it so I never mention it." He turned back to Nate. "But I'm mentioning it now."

"I'm not saying we won't help him," Nate sighed. "I'm saying that you should not be a part of this. You aren't the young warden dashing off to right wrongs anymore, Aedan. If he could do this to Zevran, he could do it to anyone." The two men stared at each other, neither one blinking in their battle of wills.

Aedan was the first to cave. "If I promise to let Anders heal me first?"

"And if you actually come up with a plan." Nate's lips quirked. "You can't storm the city with a contingent of wardens."

Aedan laughed softly and turned back to the cell, his eyes running over the still form of his lover. "Agreed. You take all the fun out of this, Nate."

"Someone has to reign you in," Nate replied. "You gave that job to me."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters tonight. Yay!

"No offense, Aedan," Anders began.

"I'm going to love this aren't I?" Aedan was crouched behind a stack of crates, peering over them to look at the building across the street. Night had fallen, and the chill of the evening had settled on them both. Not that it bothered Aedan. The man was in full plate, while Anders was wearing his-albeit new—robes.

"I hate this plan," the mage finished. In similar alleys, they had broken off into pairs to wait out Fenris. Each pair had a different side of the building to cover. They had spent the day sending wardens in plain clothes to the various establishments around the inn. If the owners had listened well, no one would be occupying the surrounding area. They didn't know if Danarius was in the Three Corners Inn, but they weren't going to take any chances, especially after sending Fenris in alone.

"Duly noted," Aedan rolled his eyes, "for the tenth time." Aedan had spent his day arguing. First it had been Nate in the dungeon. Then it had been Anders once he heard what Aedan planned. Finally it had been Fenris, the elf balking when Aedan told him and Anders that they would be paying a visit to the quartermaster before they left.

Aedan was going to leave no doubt as to whose man Fenris was now. Anders had grumbled at losing his beloved coat—where did he get that tatty thing?—but he had done as he was told. Fenris had decided it was a perfect time to test Aedan's patience. The answer was simple—he had little to none.

If Aedan was being honest, it had felt good. Yelling at Fenris and having the elf give as good as he got, had released some of the tension that he had been feeling since Zevran had attacked him. Nate use to do that for him, but the man didn't rise to the bait anymore. Zevran just found more pleasurable ways of venting Aedan's ire.

During the ride to the city, Fenris had twitched in his new armor, pulling pieces of it this way and that in order to get comfortable. It was heavier than Fenris was use to, chain mail and steel covered him in strategic places. Both he and Anders wore the blue and silver tabard of the wardens.

Aedan had relented on a few things. He hadn't wanted to hamper Fenris' movements anymore than was necessary. A chain mail hauberk hung to mid-thigh, stopping just short where his chausses started above his knees. He'd had the blacksmith take off enough links to remove the feet, insisting on them being bare. Steel covered his upper arms, shoulders and chest, the twin griffons of the wardens emblazoned on the last. Fenris also had demanded to be able to wear his black leggings and tunic underneath the armor. Aedan thought himself lucky to get as far as he had, so he had relented in that as well. He also still wore his clawed gauntlets, so his look did seem a little piecemeal. There was nothing to be done about it. Aedan would have to commission something completely new for Fenris and his needs. Until then, this would have to do.

Aedan didn't take his eyes off of the inn as he whispered to Anders. "He didn't come out immediately. I'm going to take that to mean he has either found the girl, Danarius, or both. "

"Because that is _so_ reassuring. Hey, Anders," the mage mimicked, "it's a good sign. It means that the big, scary magister has taken the bait. Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy? Let's frolic in the streets and rejoice!"

He snapped his mouth shut when Aedan shot him a glare over his shoulder. "You know, I use to think your sense of humor was a little cute. I was so young and naive then."

"Hey!" Anders looked offended. "You're younger than I am."

"Really?" Aedan mused. "Doesn't seem that way sometimes." He turned back to the inn. One of the hitches in his plan was that they couldn't risk warning anyone in the inn the way they had the businesses around it. There was no telling who was working for Danarius, or who was ensorcelled. Not until the barkeep shoved a blade in your back. It was risky, but the hope was they could draw Danarius outside without risking civilian casualties.

The shadows that the full moon cast on the empty streets had lengthened since Fenris had entered the inn. Without any inhabitants in the buildings around them—even this late at night—it seemed too quiet. Aedan's brow furrowed as something niggled in the back of his mind.

"Does it seem quiet to you?" he asked carefully.

"I guess so. But it's late, everyone but us—not that I'm casting judgment—is long asleep." Anders punctuated his point by yawning.

"That's just it." Realization dawned and he shot to his feet. "Everyone should be asleep. Everyone except the drunkards, and the whores." He nodded to the inn and the lights that blazed inside through the dingy windows. "For so much light, there is no sound coming from the common room."

He took a few steps out into the street while ignoring Anders frantic whispers to come back. He spun on his heel, turning to look at the buildings around him. "This area of town… The inn is cheap, out of the way, but near enough to the docks. It's a prime spot for sailors to drink and whores to ply their trade. So why isn't…"

He stopped and faced Anders. "Plan A has failed. We need to go-now." He took off at a run for the inn, drawing his sword and shield, and calling out for the others with a prearranged signal that consisted of nothing more than Aedan bellowing for them.

Anders pulled his staff from his back and went after him. Aedan knew as well as he did that Plan B entailed running inside and slaughtering anything slaver, demonic or magister.

Warden-Commander Cousland liked to keep his plans simple.

* * *

The very moment that Fenris laid his eyes on her, he knew that she was his sister. Images flashed in his head and he clutched at his temples from the onslaught.

_A red haired girl in pigtails running away from him, and squealing in joy when he tried to catch her._

_Their mother with the scent of flour wafting from her clothes, smiling down at them as she handed them slices of fresh baked bread._

_The fear in her eyes when master came down to the kitchens, his gaze predatory._

He couldn't seem to get enough air to breath. He stared at Varania as he went pale, the blood leaving his face.

"I remember you. I…" He grasped for words while she stood. They were alone in the common room, and her footsteps seemed louder in the unearthly quiet.

Fenris had remembered nothing this whole time. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. His fevered dreams when in the throes of the Taint couldn't be relied upon. But now he saw that there had been some ring of truth to them.

She stopped in front of him and gave him a small smile. Eyes that he saw each time he looked in a mirror glanced back at him. They stared at each other, each unsure of what to say to the other.

"You… you remember me, Leto? I wasn't sure. You always looked right through me when we saw each other. I thought you would never remember." Her voice tugged at him, drawing forth more memories.

_Varania clutching him tightly, her body trembling, sobs wracking her body. "Don't do it, Leto. It's not worth it." But he knew she didn't mean it. Their mother was getting on in years and his sister hated their lot in life. He would do this for them. He might be the lowest of the bodyguards, but he was tenacious when he fought. He could do this._

"I asked for this." He turned startled eyes on her. Not once, not _once_ in all these years did it ever occur to him that he had asked to be turned into this…weapon. The urge to serve Danarius hadn't been instilled in him from the ritual that had branded him for life. It had been in him before. He had fought for the privilege, gloried in being first and buying his sister's and his mother's freedom. "I had always thought—"

"What we wanted you to think." A voice that haunted Fenris' nightmares called down from the stairs. It was as if the world had stopped. Varania sucking in a breath and the look of apology in her eyes. The understanding that she had willing brought him here. The creak of the stairs as Danarius walked down them, his robes flowing around his feet. The scent of blood and death wafting from the second floor, unnoticed until this moment. The light from the great fireplace in the center of the room casting shadows on Danarius' face, making him appear the demon of his dreams. It all took a single heartbeat's time. But as he turned his head towards the object of all his hate, it seemed to last a lifetime.

"My little wolf, I've finally found you."

* * *

They had barely reached the door before the first demon appeared. A rage demon erupted from the earth and Aedan wasted no time rushing it. Flames splattered across his shield as the demon pounded a fiery fist into the metal.

There had been times in the past that Anders had thought that Aedan might be a berserker.

This was one of them.

The man yelled an inarticulate battle cry and dropped his shield arm, swinging his sword around to slice at the demon's midsection. A bolt and an arrow simultaneously struck the demon, imbedding inches apart from each other in its head.

Glass rained down on them as the windows on the first floor of the inn exploded outwards. The sound of a thunderclap boomed through the streets. Ohgren raced in from the side, his axe arcing wide, a manic light in his eyes.

"Let me show ya how it's done!" One of the demon's arms flew off, its fire going out and disintegrating into ash. Oghren's beard became scorched, tiny embers attempting the climb in the matted hair.

The demon bellowed in rage and threw its only remaining fist at Aedan. It glanced off of his armor, but staggered the man back. Aedan whirled his sword over his head, the steeling singing in the air, and a determined grin on his face.

 _He's enjoying this too much_ , Anders thought. He sent a healing wave over to Oghren. The demon had caught him in the face, sending the dwarf flying down the street. In his periphery he saw Sigrun making her way silently towards the demon, skirting around it to get to its back. He could also hear Velanna casting behind him, and feel her pull from the Fade.

But it wasn't necessary.

With a triumphant cry, Aedan hacked the thing's head off. It went spinning into the air, a whirling ball of fire before it went out, and its ashes blew away in the wind.

Aedan didn't bother with trying the door. With a plate clad foot, he kicked at the wood. The frame cracked and the door flew back, crashing into the Three Corners.

The smell of blood was thick as they rushed inside. It permeated the air, tainting it with its metallic tang. Fenris stood in the center of the room. He held an elven woman up by her throat, his face snarling into hers.

"You betrayed me."

* * *

" _I'm going to become a magister. You have no idea what it's like. I couldn't get work once I was free. He'll make me powerful."_ Varania's words rang in his ears and wrapped themselves around the place where his heart should be. Dimly he knew this was exactly what Danarius wanted, but he couldn't stop himself, his hands moving for her throat of their own volition. He heard a crash behind him, but that was happening in another place, another time. This woman-this magister's apprentice—that would think to betray him, was the only thing that mattered right now. The claws from his gauntlets cut into the tender skin of her neck, rivulets of blood running down her throat.

"Leto," she gasped, her hands clawing against his wrists for purchase. "I'm your… sister… please…"

"I have no sister." His lips peeled back from his teeth in a grimace. "I only see an apprentice that would emulate her masters when it comes to those she professes to care about. A magister's pet that tried to kill me with lightening. A bitch panting after any scraps they give her."

He ignored the calls of his name and shrugged off the hands pulling at his shoulders and arms. He had thought that once Hadriana was dead, there would be only one person he wanted to kill as much.

He had been wrong.

Blood vessels broke just under the surface of her face, leaving tiny red lines on her cheeks. "Leto," she begged as her mouth gaping. He didn't want to use his lyrium brands to take her heart. He wanted to see her face as her brain struggled for blood. He wanted her to fully know the mistake she had made.

"Shit," Anders swore, "I can't get him to listen to me. I don't think he knows we're here." He pulled fruitlessly at the elf's arms. The muscles were corded tightly just underneath his skin. Anders tried shouting at him, calling his name, screaming in his ear. Fenris wouldn't acknowledge him.

The elven woman he was strangling certainly saw them. She stared wide eyed at them, pleading silently with bloodshot eyes to help her. Anders ducked under Fenris' arm and stood between him and the woman. He clasped the elf's face in his hands, and rubbed his thumbs along his cheeks.

"Fenris, love. You have to stop." Anders' eyes searched Fenris' eyes for any sign that he could hear him. "Baby, please." Fenris hated it when Anders called him that. He wasn't an infant and didn't see the need for it as an endearment. Anders did it just to rattle the elf.

Applause broke out from a single set of hands, slow and mocking. "I see you're the mage my wolf latched on to." The whole room, except for Fenris and the elven woman turned towards the stairs. The man that stood there had not been there when they had entered.

"Although I don't blame you. The lad is quite…skilled." That last word had such undertones of innuendo, that Anders felt sick.

Aedan leaned in to whisper in Anders' ear. "Take care of Fenris. Let me deal with this." He didn't wait for an acknowledgement before striding out towards the bottom of the stairs.

"Fenris. You need to let her go. You're killing her." He didn't know why Fenris was choking the life out of her, but he had to stop. They needed her for answers, if nothing else. And if she turned out to truly be his sister…

Anders couldn't let him do that. Fenris would hate himself for it later.

In a last desperate bid, he sent a charge of magic through the lines of lyrium. Fenris jerked, and a low moan escaped his lips. His eyes began to clear and he blinked, his eyebrows drawing down in confusion.

"Anders?"

"Yes, love. Now let the poor woman go. I think she's passed out." He heard a thud behind him and winced in sympathy as the woman's dead weight hit the grimy wooden floor.

Fenris stared at his hands, his fingers twitching as if he could still feel the woman's fluttering pulse slowly ebbing against his fingers. He had felt this before, this feeling of rage and helplessness. The last time he had slaughtered a whole village of Fog Warriors. His eyes jerked towards the stairs, his brain swimming with realization.

Of course Danarius had found him among the Fog Warriors. Of course his sister had betrayed him. The slow burn of anger returned, churning in his gut. It all had felt so inevitable, his freedom and dreams only an illusion. But Anders was real. Anders was something that Danarius couldn't twist, jerking Fenris' string slike a puppet, breaking him down until he would do whatever the magister wanted.

He was already destroying himself. Why should Danarius take the time to do it, when Fenris did so well on his own? All Danarius had to do was set up the circumstances-Fenris did the rest, tearing out pieces of his soul and handing it to the magister. All with the man barely lifting a finger.

Danarius didn't need to break Fenris with torture or threats. He had only to lead the elf down the path of his own destruction. It had always been Fenris' choice whether he followed.

* * *

Aedan meandered around the empty tables and chairs, his sword slung over his shoulder. His tilted his head to the side, giving Danarius a considering look. "I assume the blood I smell is the patrons and the employees of the inn?" He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Upstairs? So that Fenris wouldn't see the bodies and bolt?"

"Very good. I would ask who you are, but my new pet has told me so much about you." The smile on Danarius' face was full of condescending slyness.

"Oo," Oghren jeered. "You're going to regret that one." The wardens and Varric took up a line behind Aedan, their weapons drawn.

With a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes, Aedan stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Did he now? That naughty boy. I'll have to spank him later." Behind him, Sigrun and Varric were moving tables and chairs away from the center of the room, their legs squealing as they scraped over the floor.

"You're assuming that he'll tolerate your touch." Danarius folded his hands together inside his robes. "He seems as dedicated to me as my little wolf once was."

"You bore me," Aedan pointed his sword at the magister. "I've fought darkspawn of the non-talking variety that said more interesting things. Now either stand there and let me run you through like a good little asshole so I can get back to my unthralled, fine piece of elf ass, or shut the void up and fight me. Either way I'm sick of this. You've come into _my_ city and slaughtered innocent people. Kidnapped _my_ lover and did Maker knows _what_ to him, and all for the chance to take one of _my_ men away from me?"

Aedan shook his head, a menacing grin on his face. "You should have come for him in Kirkwall when you had the chance. Now you're going to die in a seedy little inn. How embarrassing for you." Behind him, the dwarves were cackling with glee.

"I could command your lover to kill himself from here. He would die and there would be nothing you could do about it. How many people do you think I sacrificed for power tonight?" Despite his threat, Danarius looked a little less unsure of himself.

"Do it," Aedan retorted. "Do it and I will make your death legendary. No magister will want to step foot in Ferelden again from the nightmares of what I did do to you. Do you honestly think I give one single fuck?" He levered his sword at Danarius once more.

"Now, since you won't shut the fuck up, I'll help you." With a cry Aedan charged up the stairs.

* * *

Fenris had been stunned as Aedan and Danarius spoke. No one who had direct command over him had ever stood up for Fenris that way. He hadn't known what it had meant-until this very moment-what being a Grey Warden was really about. The wardens took from all walks of life. They didn't care where you came from, or what you had done as long as you did your job. There was a camaraderie in the Ferelden Grey Wardens that he'd never experienced before. He'd had a taste of it in Kirkwall, but nothing to this scale.

Anders clamped a hand on his shoulder and Fenris looked up. "Yeah," Anders said, correctly reading the look on Fenris' face. "I felt the same way once. You'll get use to it, or die in the Deep Roads, whichever comes first."

Fenris opened his mouth to reply, but all around them, the floors erupted. Demons came pouring out of the tear in the Veil, surrounding them and cutting them off from Aedan.

Anders leaned down and gave Fenris a quick kiss. "Go, help Aedan. We've got your back."

Fenris gave him a searching look before his body shimmered. He turned and pulled his sword from his back, waving it in an arc to clear a path to the stairs. Above him he could hear Aedan's cries and Danarius' laughter.

He broke through the ring of demons and took the steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor, his feet almost slipped out from under him. He steadied himself on the wall and his hand came away wet. His brands flared brighter, illuminating the hallway, and he gasped.

The hallway was slick with fresh blood and viscera. The stench assaulted him and he breathed shallowly through his mouth to prevent from being sick. He'd always known that Danarius was mad, but to do something like this he must have truly gone insane.

Two sets of boot prints broke up the blood on the floor and Fenris followed them, his eyes darting between closed doors. Below him he could hear the battle raging on, and he clenched his teeth against the urge to go back down to Anders. He had to find Danarius before Aedan killed him. He needed answers.

At the end of the hall on his left was an open door. Firelight flickered out of it, highlighting the prints tracking inside. He could feel magic crackling in the air around him, pulling at his brands as he approached. Danarius' magic was familiar, but his skin crawled as he compared it to the feeling of what Anders did to him.

Anders magic was a caress. It was gentle, or it was full of intense heat. Danarius' magic clawed at his flesh, digging into him in a way that bordered on painful. How he could have once thought that Anders magic felt the same as his former master's, he would never know. It was a mistake he would not make again.

Pressing his back to the wall, Fenris' brands winked out and he peered around the doorframe into the room. If he'd thought that the hallway was horrifying, then what he witnessed in the room quickly disabused him of that notion.

Body parts so defaced that Fenris could no longer tell their gender, littered the floor in an intricate pattern. The carpet was soaked with blood, and it gave a sickening squelch as the two men inside circled each other.

"You're one sick bastard, you know that?" Aedan said as he twirled the sword in his hand. "I don't say that lightly either." His eyes flickered to the door and Fenris knew he'd been spotted when Aedan gave a almost imperceptible nod of his head. He moved to right, leading Danarius towards the door as the man followed his movements.

Scorch marks marred Aedan's armor and blood seeped from a wound on his scalp. He tossed his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "All this for one slave? I wonder if it has anything to do with what he can do in the Fade." He raised his shield as Danarius threw a lightning bolt at him. It connected with the steel and electricity moved over the metal, jumping to Aedan's armor. Aedan dropped his shield as his arm went numb, his face twisted with pain.

"So my wolf has finally figured out what he can do in the Fade," Danarius muse. "This shall make things easier when I bring him back to Minrathous. The circle will be very pleased."

Without him realizing, Danarius had copied Aedan's movements enough that his back was directly in front of the doorway. In a flash, Fenris ignited his brands, thrusting his arm into the magister's back as he stepped into the room.

"I am not your wolf," he hissed in the man's ear.

Danarius' voice came out in a choked gurgle. "You'll always be mine. No one in Tevinter will let you go now that you know about the doorway."

He had always imagined that Danarius' heart was black and shriveled, but it felt like any other organ he'd ever had in his hands. It was mundane, the feel of it familiar against his fingers. It made Danarius seem less like a monster and more like the insane blood mage he was.

"Where does the doorway lead?" Fenris demanded, his hand squeezing just enough to feel his heart stutter.

Danarius only laughed. "You don't know?" He rolled his eyes over to Aedan. "You have no idea of what you have saved this night. You would have been better off letting him leave with me…or killing him."

"Tell me!" Fenris let go of the heart, giving Danarius a small reprieve that was quickly taken away when he grasped it once more.

"No." Danarius smiled, his eyes becoming glazed with fervor. "No. I like that you will suffer when you find out. I like that when others find out, you will be hunted. It will be my last gift to you, my wolf. The circles will hunt you. The Chantry will hunt you. There will be no place you may go without fear of discovery. Being at my side will become a lovely memory for you, something you will regret you never came back to."

Fenris began to shake, his body trembling. But it wasn't until Danarius said his last words that he became afraid.

"Your mage will turn on you. He will use you for his own glory. Pray that he never find out."

With a cry of denial, Fenris yanked back his arm, ripping the heart from Danarius' chest. The body slumped to the floor, blood oozing out to collect with the already saturated carpet. Fenris held the heart in his hand, staring at it as if he expected it to still be beating.

Aedan walked slowly over to him, cradling his injured arm to his chest. "Don't listen to him. You're a warden now. We don't give up our own. We don't bow down to the circles, or to the Chantry."

Fenris abruptly opened his hand, and the heart dropped to the floor, rolling towards Aedan's feet.

"The hardest lesson I have to teach any of my men is that I don't care who you are. You're a warden now, one of my wardens." Aedan stomped on the organ, crushing it under his boot. "No one fucks with my men. I had enough of that during the last blight."


	25. Chapter 25

Anders awoke to an empty bed. He slid a hand over the spot next to him and felt nothing but cold bedding. He flicked his eyes up to Fenris' pillow and noticed that it was smooth and pristine. No dent from the elf's head marred the surface. He rolled over onto his back and scrubbed at his bleary eyes with his palms.

By the time Anders had made it back to the keep, the sun had long since risen. Exhausted, he had stumbled to the room he shared with Fenris to find the elf hadn't returned yet. Fenris had left with Aedan, the two of them silent and saying very little as to what had happened with Danarius. That the magister was dead there was no doubt. The demons they had been battling had abruptly melted away, the fight ending without fanfare.

Aedan had allowed Anders to look at the arm that hung limply from his side while he gave short, but precise instructions. Fenris and Aedan would be returning immediately to the keep to check on Zevran. A bleakness appeared in the Warden-Commander's eyes when he mentioned his lover's name, but it disappeared so quickly, Anders wasn't sure if he had even seen it. He would dispatch wardens from the keep to cordon off the inn. They were to stay here and go through the building to make sure that Danarius hadn't left any nasty surprises. Once the wardens came and the building was secure, they could return to the keep to get some well earned rest.

Aedan had glanced up at the ceiling and sucked in a slow breath. "I want this place razed to the ground. I'll instruct the men I'm sending to salvage as much personal effects as they can to help identify bodies." He breathed a sigh of relief when the feeling returned in his arm and he rolled it at the joints, testing it.

"If the owner had heirs then they will be compensated for the loss of property, but I don't want any piece of timber to remain standing." He and Fenris shared a significant look. "Once you've seen the second floor, you'll know why."

He had then pointed at the unconscious woman on the floor. "I want that _woman_ brought back to the keep. I don't care what condition she's in. Just make sure she can talk by this evening."

Unable to get back to sleep, Anders yawned and sat up in bed. He dislodged Pounce, who gave him a disgruntled mew as he rolled down the blanket to settle between Anders' legs.

Upon reaching the second floor, Anders had understood immediately why Aedan wanted the place destroyed. There was no salvaging what had been done to it. He had been able to make it as far as halfway down the hallway before his stomach had begun to rebel.

The bile in his throat had won the fight and he'd become sick in a corner when he reached the last room.

He had tried to talk to Fenris and check him over for injuries, but the elf had brushed him off, stating that he needed some air and he would see Anders back at the keep. That had hurt, but Anders wouldn't let the elf see it. If Fenris needed time, then Anders would give it to him.

Just not for long.

There was no lonely mansion to retreat to, and very little good wine to keep him company at the keep. Anders refused to allow Fenris to pull away from him. This wasn't Kirkwall and there were few places to hide in the keep. Anders should know. So when he saw the empty bed, he hadn't felt more than a twinge of worry, but now that it appeared that Fenris had not returned to the room at all, Anders was compelled to seek him out.

"This isn't going to be fun, Pounce, "Anders warned the cat as he slipped out of the bed and streatched. He grunted as stiff muscles protested the action. He had worn himself out, pushing his body harder than he had in a long while.

He could still taste the lyrium potions on his tongue, and he went to the water pitcher next to the wash basin to pour himself something to get rid of the lingering bitterness. Fighting and healing during the battle in the common room had taken every ounce of his skill. The demons had been relentless. When one would sink into the floor boards dead, another would take its place. Anders had never seen so many summoned at one time, and that included all of the blood mages he had fought along Hawke's side.

A particularly nasty Desire demon had given them the most trouble. Varric and Nathaniel of all people had almost fallen under its sway. It had promised them both the objects of their desire. Anders shook his head, still unable to believe that either one of them had hidden depths that entailed needs of the flesh so strongly, that a Desire demon would latch onto it. Varric had seemed particularly rattled by the encounter when she had disappeared along with the others when Danarius was killed.

"I don't want to know, Pounce. I really don't." Pounce stared at him as if to say, 'Oh, yes you do. Why are you lying?'

Anders combed his hair and wrapped a strip of leather around the strands he gathered to hold them back from his face. He had been too tired to do nothing more than strip his grimy clothes off, and let them fall forgotten on the floor before falling into bed. He grimaced at the dirt and blood that still clung to his skin, and was afraid to look back and see what a mess he had made of the bed. He dunked a cloth and a cake of soap into the wash basin and scrubbed at his body. If only he could cleanse the image of that room from his mind.

He and Velanna agreed that Danarius had not used the sacrifices to harm Zevran. There had been no time for a spell that complicated, and the quantity of demons that had risen would have used most of the power that Danarius had collected.

Anders slipped into his old clothes and felt comforted by their familiar weight. He sat on the bed and slid into his boots. Pounce bumped his head against Anders' back, and he paused to reach around and scratch at the cat's chin.

"Wish me luck, Pounce. I know you like having him here with us, even if it's just for the extra warmth at night." He stood and eyed the filthy sheets. "I'll come back with some new bedding too."

* * *

Fenris hadn't slept in over a day. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Danarius and his pronouncement ringing in his ears. With his armor discarded next to him, Fenris sat on the cold floor of the dungeon in front of a locked cell. He had been here ever since they had dragged Varania in. His hands were draped over a bent knee, while the other leg was stretched out before him. He stared at the woman who lay unconscious on her side, willing her to awaken as he had for the past several hours. She occupied the cell Zevran had vacated the moment Aedan had assured himself that the elf was still alive.

It had been a little embarrassing to watch the two of them cling to each other. Aedan's hands had run over the elf, cataloguing each wound and bruise Zevran had. Zevran in return had whispered in a low murmur into Aedan's ear, reassuring the man that he was fine.

Aedan and Fenris had spoken very little on the hectic ride back to the keep. The brutal pace that Aedan set did not allow for much conversation. When Fenris did broach the subject of his sister, Aedan had replied that she was being held until the Arl of Amaranthine decided on a judgment concerning her crimes. He had ticked them off, the list growing longer with each breath. Attempted murder and murder came up several times.

Fenris pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, in an attempt to ease the pressure that hunger and sleep deprivation had created. Everything was turned on its side. He had asked for what Danarius had done to him, and he was no closer to finding the answers that he needed. Danarius' voice haunted him, hounding his thoughts until they ran around in circles and he no longer knew what to believe. That the man would lie was a given. It would be just like him to show Fenris one last path to dance down merrily to his own destruction. But Fenris didn't think he had lied. Danarius had nothing left to lose, and his last words had been cruel enough.

His eyes dropped down to the flagstones, and he stared at them as if they could give him the answers he sought if only he looked hard enough. Why would the Chantry want to hunt him down? Why would the circles for that matter? What did he possess that they both would want to kill or use him for?

It was on the tip of his tongue, he could just feel it. He slid his fingers through his hair and gripped the strands tightly, just shy of painful. What did magisters and the Chantry want with…

And then he knew.

The force of the realization took the breath from his lungs. For a moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped before the organ sped up, thundering in his chest. His mind rebelled from the idea, but the more he thought on it, the more it made a horrifying sense.

There was only one thing that the templars, the Chantry, the circles and the magisters had in common. It existed in the Fade, and Fenris— _Fenris_ —was the literal key, built in pain and lyrium to open the door that no mortal was meant to walk through.

The last time mortals had, they had caused the first blight.

Fenris knew now what he had seen in the doorway, and why Justice had said that he would kill Fenris if he ever came back to the Fade.

Danarius had found a way back into the Black City, and Fenris was the one that could unlock its gates.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews! 
> 
> Aedan got away from me. He was originally suppose to do his job and fade into the background like a good boy. But who he was and why he acts the way he does kept nagging at me, forcing me to flesh him out more and more. I'm glad everyone likes him as much as I do. He's grown on me as well.


	26. Chapter 26

Anders found Fenris in the first place he looked—the dungeon. With a loaf of bread in his hands, he walked silently towards the elf. Fenris had his hair gripped tightly between his fingers, and he stared down intently at the flagstones as if he could see right through them by will alone.

"Fenris?" The elf's eyes shot towards him, and Anders felt his heart clench at the anguish reflected there. He knew he shouldn't have left him alone for so long. As he crouched down on the floor, Fenris' eyes became shuttered, his face impassive.

"What time is it?" He sounded exhausted, the normal ebb and flow of his voice dulled with fatigue.

"Just after the noon bell." Anders sat down and tore the soft bread in two. It was still warm from the ovens and steam wafted from the fluffy innards. He took a bite with a grateful sigh and held out the other half for Fenris.

"Eat," he mumbled around the food in his mouth. "You must be starving. I take it you haven't been to sleep yet?"

Fenris plucked the food from Anders fingers and turned it over in his hands before nibbling on the end. "You would be correct. It's pass the noon bell?" He glanced over at Anders out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm surprised you waited this long to find me. That must have taken much restraint."

"Too tired," Anders replied honestly. "I did go looking as soon as I woke up, though. But if you want to think I was showing restraint, then who am I to judge?"

"Who indeed?" Fenris gave Anders a considering look before returning to his meal. He hadn't realized how ravenous he was until the smell of bread had hit the air. Taking careful bites so as not to distress his empty stomach with too much food at once, Fenris came to a few decisions.

He had to tell Anders. There had been enough secrets between them, few of which had ever done either of them any good. Danarius had looked at Anders through a magister's eyes, seeing only another mage and not the man beneath. Fenris had made that mistake before, and he had vowed never to do it again. Danarius' world was colored by his life in the Imperium. He couldn't fathom a mage that did not want power. If there was any mage on the face of Thedas that _didn't_ want power, it was Anders.

If he didn't put his faith in Anders, then who could he trust?

They ate in easy silence, content with giving the other time to fill their belly. When Anders had brushed the last of the crumbs from his fingers, he stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. I know a nice spot where we won't be disturbed."

It occurred to Fenris that Anders was taking it as a given that he was going to tell the mage what had happened. In the past, an assumption like that would have rankled, denoting a familiarity that Fenris went out of his way to avoid. It was just another sign of just how much he had come to trust Anders, that he didn't give it much more than a brief thought before taking his hand and allowing Anders to pull him to his feet.

Anders' nose wrinkled. "You do realize you have dried blood on the bottom of your feet, right? See, we have this wonderful invention called shoes. You wear them to protect your feet and if they get dirty, you can take them off. You should try them sometime."

On the other hand, he thought as he followed Anders to the upper levels of the keep, there were times that Anders could just be plain annoying. _That_ was never going to change.

Anders led him across the courtyard and up twisting stairs; he opened a door located at the very top of the keep with a flourish. They stepped out into one of the higher towers, and the sun that shone high above them almost blinded Fenris. He squinted against the light until his eyes became use to it and followed Anders where the mage stood overlooking the keep.

"I use to come here a lot when I was trying to escape the templar that tricked Aedan into letting him join. You can see someone coming across the courtyard, so I could escape before he spotted me. Of course he _did_ end up cornering me one day, but we all know how that ended."

"Aedan is going to send for some templars to deal with my sister," Fenris said quietly.

"Yeah," Anders blew out a slow breath. "She came to for a short period of time after I healed her. Velanna got a little too trigger happy with the sleep spell. She wasn't too pleased with her." He placed a hand on Fenris' shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm sorry, Fenris."

"Don't be. She chose her path in life. I shouldn't have expected more than that."

"Don't say that. You had every right to expect her to," Anders waved his hands, searching for the right words, "be what you wanted. It's not your fault that she wasn't."

"Oh, but it was. I did this to myself. I fought for the right, killing others much stronger than me, but less skilled. Thinking back on it now, I think Danarius wanted someone who had a strong will to live. Anyone else would have died during the ritual. I did it to gain her freedom, along with my mother's."

Fenris watched the wardens below walking across the courtyard. He felt detached from them and their lives. "She told me that her freedom was a burden. She couldn't find work and eventually," Fenris swallowed, grateful that for once Anders wasn't saying anything. "Eventually she became an apprentice to a magister. I had no idea that my sister was a mage." He let out a bitter, short bark of laughter. "How much of a hypocrite does that make me? After everything that I've said to you."

Anders did interject then. "I don't know. I'm not going to lie and say that you were the biggest asshole in Kirkwall—Meredith gets that honor—but you were running a close second. I forgave you long ago."

Staring at his hands, Fenris noticed how dirt and blood had embedded themselves in the fine lines on his palms. "I…I need to tell you what Danarius said to me before I killed him." He couldn't make himself look at Anders-not yet.

He licked lips suddenly gone dry. "He told me that the Chantry, the templars, and even the circles would hunt me down if they found out why he had me branded. I didn't believe him at first, but the look in his eyes…"

"Why would—"

"Please, let me finish," Fenris said in a rush. If Anders spoke then he would never be able to get it all out. "I've been sitting in the dungeon for hours, trying to puzzle out what he meant. He thought that we knew. When Aedan asked him if his want of me had anything to do with what I could do in the Fade. He'd thought then that we _knew_. He seemed elated." Fenris closed his eyes and replayed for the thousandth time the tone of Danarius' voice. "So I asked myself, what in the Fade would a magister want? What would the Chantry want?"

"Maker," Anders breathed. "It couldn't be."

Fenris did glance at Anders then, and noticed the dawning of understanding on his face. He looked like someone had punched him in the gut, his normally pale skin losing what little color it had. His eyes searched Fenris' with the glimmer of hope that what the elf was going to say next would prove Anders wrong.

"That doorway we saw," Fenris pushed on, holding the mage's gaze with his own intense stare. "That doorway leads to the Black City."

"That's insane!" Anders burst out. He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging some of the strands from their tie.

"Yes. But as we saw, Danarius was not the sanest of men."

"That's…" Anders was at a loss for words. He shook his head, denying what Fenris was saying as his words accepted it. "Does Aedan know?"

Fenris shook his head. "No. I had only just pieced it together. I think…" He took a deep breath. "I think he should be informed. I cannot allow this darkspawn of his find out."

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no. The Architect can _never_ find out. You think Danarius is nuts? At least he didn't accidently set off a fucking blight."

"Not with want of trying it would appear," Fenris said dryly. Something that had been twisting inside him for hours eased. He knew he had made the right decision in telling Anders. Danarius wasn't going to take him away from Fenris the way he had taken and skewed everything else in the elf's life.

"Oh, shit. Was that a joke?" Anders swiped at his face with his hands. "I'm the one suppose to be making jokes, I thought we agreed on that."

And just like that, the tension was gone. Anders could be relied upon to be Anders. Bad jokes at inappropriate times and all. Fenris felt his lips twitch in a small smile before his face sobered. "There's more."

"'More,' he says." Anders raised his eyebrows.

"Danarius was convinced the wardens would want me, or try to kill me if they knew. I need your opinion on this. If I tell Aedan, will he be obligated to tell Weisshaupt?"

Anders ran his fingers through is hair again, his hair tie finally giving up and falling to the ground dejectedly. "I don't know. Aedan is different than what he use to be. Before, I would have said no. That Aedan would have thumbed his nose at the First Warden and told him to shove it. But he's changed." He pressed his fingertips to his lips, and his eyes looking inward as he considered. "Aedan might not tell them. No good can come of wardens wanting to enter the Black City, he would see that. I can't speak for Weisshaupt though. They have too much power in the Anderfels, they do things differently there. They might see it as their duty to either kill you to prevent anyone else from entering, or trying themselves to see exactly what had caused the blight."

Fenris nodded to himself. "I will have to take my chances with Aedan, and pray that he hasn't changed as much as you think. There would be no logical excuse I could give him in order to get out of seeing the Architect."

He hesitated. He knew what the answer to his next question would be, but the part of him that still doubted what he and Anders had together-the part that doubted himself-wasn't quite so sure. "If this goes badly, if Aedan isn't what we hope and he informs Weisshaupt—"

Anders finished the thought for him, confirming Fenris' belief in him. "Then we run. We're both quite good at it, you know."

* * *

Fenris stood up in the bathing tub, sloshing water on the floor when he climbed out. He curled his lips at the dingy water, while he ran a drying cloth over his body. Despite appearances to the contrary, Fenris did not like to be filthy. The ability to bathe when he wished was one of his first real pleasures as a free man. When he had lived in Kirkwall, the only room he had cleaned-other than the one he had slept in—had been the bathing chamber. He'd had to heat and haul the water himself, but he did it every night if he was able. To have even that slightest bit of control over his body and its needs had been heady. There were a series of bathing chambers in each wing of the keep. The wardens were encouraged to use them frequently.

He pulled on the clean clothes he had brought with him with a sigh of relief. His eyes began to droop and he almost lost his balance when he pulled his leggings on. He needed sleep badly. He tossed the clothes he wore into the Three Corners in the fire, watching them burn.

He no longer felt like himself. He felt disconnected from everything around him, as if the events of the night before had happened to someone else. The part of him that had longed for some sort of connection to his past, recoiled at the idea of Varania being handed over to the templars. During his vigil in the dungeon, he had made a myriad of excuses for her actions and her complacency. But in the end, he could not get around the fact that she had stood by and allowed Danarius to slaughter those people for his own gain.

The irony that he was trying to make excuses for her did not escape him. She was everything he had professed to despise—a mage who would sell out her own family for power. The likelihood that she had helped Danarius just made it worse. It would make her a blood mage that killed the innocent without thought for their humanity.

When the last of his clothes turned to ash, Fenris forced himself to leave the room. Anders would come looking for him if he was gone for too long. Fenris knew the mage regretted not looking for him right away the first time—he didn't think Anders would hold out again.

He needed to see Varania and talk to her one last time before the templars came. His memory was still gone, only snatches of his former life had returned to him-that was where the disconnect had started. From what he had seen, Leto was a man that Fenris could not relate to. He had lived his whole life as a slave, just as Fenris had, but he had not rebelled. He had jumped at the chance to better himself, to bring his family freedom and himself glory.

He had been complacent and the cost of that had been too high.

No matter that they wore the same skin, Fenris was different. He had told Hawke once that Hadriana had been a torment to him. Most of that had been his own doing, his unwillingness to give in to his master's games. Two times—when he had seen his moment—he had escaped. Freedom had been all that Fenris had ever wanted, where Leto had only entrenched himself deeper into the life of a slave.

 _Maybe_ , thought Fenris. _Maybe I am too hard on him. He had others to protect, and I had no one._ Truth be told, if he had a chance to give Anders his freedom, would he have taken it? Even if it meant selling himself to those that brokered in evil?

He already knew the answer to that. He had come to Vigil's Keep without knowing what the wardens would be like to save Anders. Yes, it had saved his life as well, but Fenris had not been afraid of dying. But the thought that coming here might give Anders his chance at living the life he should had consumed him, giving him the focus he had needed to get Anders out of the Gallows.

He opened the door to their room and saw that Anders had fallen asleep waiting for him. Pounce blinked blearily up at him from where he was perched on Anders' chest. His rumbling purr filled the room when he saw it was Fenris.

For reasons beyond him, the cat had taken a liking to Fenris. Anders insisted it was proof that Fenris needed more cat in his life, but Fenris—like most outrageous statements that Anders made—didn't believe it.

He pulled off his clothes after he quietly closed the door, slipping into bed. Anders had sprawled out, and Fenris had to nudge the mage hard to get him to roll over in his sleep. He grumbled, muttering something unintelligible and wrapped his arm around Pounce, who had fallen off his chest. The moment Fenris' head hit the pillow and he pulled the blanket warmed with Anders' body heat over him, Fenris fell into much needed sleep.

* * *

For once Fenris had not woken up before Anders. It went unspoken that they both had leave for a few days to recoup after the Three Corners. So not only had Anders been the first to open his eyes, he had the luxury of staying in bed with—and to scrutinize—a sleeping Fenris.

Fenris looked so young when he slept, and Anders wondered just how old the elf really was. _Not_ that he was complaining. He was only continuing the fine tradition of older mage and younger, much prettier men. That Fenris was pretty was a given. Anders had never met an elf that wasn't, not really. His lips quirked when he thought of what Fenris would say if he called him pretty. Soft breaths came from parted lips, and the furrows that etched Fenris' face into a permanent scowl were smoothed out.

Truthfully, Anders didn't know what Aedan was going to do when he was told about Fenris. If they ran, it would be different than when Anders had left the wardens. Fenris might be more important than Anders had been to the wardens. A faked death or slipping away in the night wouldn't cut it.

Anders groaned and scratched the back of his neck. But if there was anything that Anders was good at it was escaping. Sure, some of those escapes were dumb luck, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from counting them.

Thinking about the things Fenris had told reminded him of Varania. That Aedan would bring templars into the keep, after what they tried to do to Anders… He closed his eyes and tried to bank his rage. He had to make sure that Aedan gave her a fair hearing before he did that. If it turned out that she wasn't as complicit as it appeared, then Anders was going to fight to make sure that she wasn't sent to the circle. Desperate mages did foolish things. If she had felt as if there had been no other option… He groaned again and opened his eyes to see Fenris looking at him.

"Dare I ask what has you so upset that you feel the need to bemoan it so loudly?" The elf gave him a baleful glare.

"Uh…" This was not the kind of conversation one wanted to have first thing in the morning. _Hello, love. Say, your sister that you despise? Yeah, I kind of want to help her. Why? Because I hate the templars and I don't want to see anyone end up in their clutches. What's that? You think I'm an idiot? Business as usual then. Carry on._

Not happening.

Fenris blinked at him slowly, waiting for an answer.

"I was wondering how old you were," Anders lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He _did_ want to know the answer.

From the look on his face, that hadn't been what Fenris had been expecting. "I'm not sure. I think I'm at least twenty-six. Why?"

"I don't know. There are certain things we don't know about each other. I was just thinking on that. I don't usually get to know my partners very well-there was no point in the circle. People got moved all the time; lovers were split up for various reasons. Why should I get to know someone when they're just going to leave me?"

"And you don't think I am going to leave you, so now you want to know," Fenris surmised.

A flush crept up Anders' neck. "Something like that."

Fenris looked off to a point just beyond Anders' head and went silent. Anders felt his palms become sweaty and he clenched the blanket to his bare chest to hide them. He should have kept his mouth shut. Things were fine the way they were between them, there was no need to—

"My name is Leto," fenris said suddenly.

Anders' thoughts jerked to a halt, and he let go of the death grip he had on the poor, unoffending blanket. "That's…"

"Ridiculous," Fenris stated flatly. "That's what it is. It doesn't feel right. When Varania called me that, I remembered. I know she did not lie, but that's not me."

"I know how that is. Anders isn't my name. It's what all people from the Anderfels are called. How stupid is that. It would be like if you were from Ferelden and I called you Ferel, or Den, or maybe Relden. Relden of Ferelden. Anders of Anderfels. They did it because I was old enough to know better. I knew what it was like to have a family—such as it was." Anders shrugged. "So they took my name away and gave me a new one. I don't know what I'd do if I was called anything else except for Anders now. I've had it far longer than…" he paused and chewed on his lower lip.

"Than?" Fenris prompted softly.

"Adelric." Anders shuddered. "Maker, I haven't ever told anyone that. I don't think I've even said it out loud since I was taken into the circle. Don't tell anyone, _Leto_." Anders stressed Fenris' name. "I'm not that scared kid anymore. Adelric died a long time ago."

A shadow cleared in Fenris' eyes. Anders hadn't even been aware it was there until it was gone, swept away by something that Anders couldn't name. "And Leto died too. I should let him rest in peace instead of disturbing his grave. He died trying to do what was right for his family, against adversaries that were more than he could handle. I should respect that and let it lie."

"But your sister," Anders began. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Why did he always do that?

The shadows were back in Fenris' eyes. "I can do nothing for her. Aedan has made his choice."

"But you can't give up on her." _Damn it, Anders. Shut up._ It was like he was watching the world's biggest idiot clod his way through an apothecary's shop, knocking over bottles of precious elixirs while screaming, 'Argh!'

"Can't I?" Fenris asked harshly. "She gave up on me. I was nothing more than a thing to her. I was no less than the coin she used to barter her way into power. I will not be used like that, not by a _vile mage_."

Those last few words may not have echoed in the room, but it felt that way all the same. "I thought you were passed this," Anders whispered brokenly.

"Don't." Fenris rolled on top of Anders, trapping him beneath him. "Don't look like that." He pressed his forehead to Anders until all he could see was the green of Fenris' eyes.

"I cannot just get pass this. It's not as simple as wishing a lifetime's worth of pain away. Would you have me ask you to get passed what the templars did to you?"

"I…"

"I love you. I am trying. Give me that at least." He pressed a quick, desperate kiss to Anders' lips. "I am sorry that I said it. I don't wish to hurt you."

Anders drew in a shaky breath. "All right. I shouldn't have brought it up so early. But we do need to do something."

"I mean to speak to her later today. I don't wish to see her die anymore than you do. I just… have so much anger in me. Sometimes I say things without thought."

He turned his head away and Anders touched his hands to his face, gently moving him back. "You're speaking to someone that had a spirit of Justice turn into Vengeance. I know all about rage. I know about saying things that should never be spoken. " He smiled and pressed a kiss to Fenris' lips. "Now, why don't you make it up to me."

"You forgive me that easily?" Fenris looked down at Anders in surprise and more than a little suspicion.

"If you make me beg for it, I'll forgive you the next five things you do," Anders promised. The mage wore nothing but his smallclothes and Fenris was naked and straddling him. He slid his hands down Fenris' neck and over his shoulders. Every time he was with Fenris, Anders couldn't believe he had the luxury of touching the elf like this. It was addictive, all that compact muscle playing just under olive skin. His fingertips traced over the raised brands on the elf's back and he sent a small trickle of magic through them. Fenris' eyes slid shut and a moan escaped his parted lips. He rocked his hips slightly over Anders, and he could feel Fenris' erection pressing insistently into his stomach.

Leaning down, Fenris' warm breath panted into Anders' ear. "The things you do to me. I can't get enough of you." His teeth bit down gently on Anders' earlobe, causing a slight sting of pain that zipped down between Anders' thighs.

"I want all of you this time," Fenris whispered, his voice smooth silk. "I want you to take that wonderful cock of yours and fuck me with it."


	27. Chapter 27

At first, Anders hadn't thought he had heard Fenris correctly. He was still sleeping and having a very detailed sex dream. That's what it was. But when he felt teeth rasp over his neck, he knew it was all too real.

"Why?" Anders croaked out. _Good one. Try to talk the object of your fantasies out of letting you fuck him. You really are an idiot._

One of Fenris' hands caressed Anders' nipple, rolling it into a hard point on his chest. "Because I want this. I want this for myself." He pulled back and sat upright on top of Anders. The mage felt his mouth go dry at the sight of a naked and aroused Fenris, with his thighs open and legs straddling Anders' waist. He almost didn't hear what Fenris was telling him.

"In recent memory I have only ever been with a few people. Two of those have been of my own free will. Why can't I have my lover fuck me if I wish it and he is willing? Why can't I give the one I love something of myself freely?"

Anders knew the smile he gave Fenris was sappy, but he didn't care. Out of the two of them, he was the admittedly more romantic. He gave Fenris pet names and his hands drifted to touch the elf at all hours of the day. Fenris on the other hand, only scowled when Anders' more romantic nature reared its head. Anders ignored it, though. The frown lacked the heat behind it that would have shown Fenris' true disdain.

But when Fenris did speak from the heart as he was now, the rarity of it made it that much more poignant for Anders. It was a side of Fenris that only he got to see, and he hoarded that knowledge like the Chantry hoarded lyrium.

Anders blinked rapidly to prevent tears from falling from his eyes. Fenris would draw the line at him blubbering like an idiot. "Love, I—"

_Wait a moment._

"Wait a moment," he repeated out loud. "Two? Who—" He broke off on a moan as Fenris shrewdly rolled his hips. He bent down and braced his palms flat on either side of Anders' shoulders.

"Does it matter? I guarantee you that I won't be thinking of them when you're cock deep in my ass."

Anders found it hard to track his thoughts. All the blood in his brain rushed down to his groin where Fenris was exuding wonderful pressure in all the right ways. He gave a pained groan when Fenris scratched his nails down Anders' chest. Eight pink lines marred the surface of his pale skin, and Fenris leaned down to trace the path of each one with his tongue.

"Why am I talking?" Anders asked the ceiling. His fingertips danced their way up Fenris' bent legs to cup and squeeze his finely toned ass.

Fenris looked up at Anders through hooded eyes, the tip of his tongue pausing on his left nipple. "Do you want the answer to that?" In reply, Anders rolled them both over and hooked Fenris' legs tighter around his waist.

"You'll let me do as I wish?" he asked instead. His voice had gone husky as his brain ran over the possibilities.

"Within reason." Fenris speared his fingers through Anders' hair, and held out the golden strands to the light, watching them fall back down as they slipped away.

Anders didn't know the full extent of what Danarius had done to Fenris. They had not talked about the insinuations that the magister had made. Fenris was showing Anders his trust in the best way he knew how.

Leaning forward, Anders brushed his lips along Fenris'. "Then kiss me." When their lips met, Anders sank himself into the kiss. He had always wanted to spend some time just kissing Fenris. He loved the taste of the elf. The wine he had with every meal now, mixed with Fenris' own flavor created a sensory sensation that swamped Anders' mind. As the kiss deepened, each press of their lips, each slide of their tongues, each parting for a quick gasp of shaky breath, became a dance all its own.

Anders thought he could just come from kissing Fenris alone. The sighs the elf made, combined with the moans he uttered into Anders' lips, and their shared breaths had his cock straining in his smalls. The bump of their lips fell into the same rhythm as the heartbeat in his throbbing prick. He rutted into Fenris, trapping the elf's cock between them. He could feel the silky slide of Fenris' hairless erection rubbing over his abdomen.

He didn't know how long they kissed, but when he pulled back one final time, gasping for breath, his lips felt swollen and bruised. Fenris… Fenris looked debauched, like someone's wet dream. He lay sprawled out under Anders, his hair tangled, and his prick hard and leaking freely. He stared at the mage through eyes that were half lidded and full of answering heat. A flush had risen just under Fenris' skin, and his chest rose and fell with each panting breath.

Anders pulled away, slipped his small clothes off and tossed them to the floor. He leaned back on his elbows and quirked an eyebrow at Fenris. "Come here."

The elf did not hesitate as he sat up. With a sultry smile on his face, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled towards Anders. The muscles in Fenris' body rolled sinuously, each movement meant to drive Anders insane. Anders put all his weight on one arm and slid a hand down his chest. He felt the slight burn of the scratches there, and he lingered at each one before caressing down his stomach. As he watched Fenris come closer, his fingers tangled in the slight bush of dark golden hair at the base of his shaft. He cupped his balls, lifting them towards the elf when Fenris reached him.

They stared at each other, Fenris' eyes flicking between Anders' and his prick. "What do you want, Anders?" he asked softly.

There were certain games that they played that Anders knew Fenris would not give up. This was one of them.

"I want you to suck my cock." Anders' voice was lower in his ears than he had ever heard it before. "I want you to take it all down your throat until it chokes you, then I want you to take it further." He waited, a thread of apprehension running through him. It was no more than what Fenris had ever asked of him, but he wasn't sure if the elf would do it.

"And if I don't?" Fenris lowered the upper half of his body down until his face was level with Anders' erection. His bottom half was still raised and he spread his legs, arching his back and raising his ass further. Anders could just see Fenris' cock pointing straight down to the bed, a thread of precum falling to the sheets.

Anders drew in a shaky breath and ran his hand up his dick, squeezing the head until it just peeked out in the tight ring of his fingers. "Then you get to watch."

Fenris nuzzled his nose into Anders' balls, lifting the sac lightly. "Tempting, but I will have to decline. He ran his tongue up Anders' shaft and the mage released himself and leaned back. He forced himself to watch as Fenris teased his tongue around the glans, his cock hardening further until it was almost painful before the elf moved away. Fenris caught and held Anders' gaze with hungry eyes as he parted his lips.

Wet heat enveloped Anders and he hissed out between clenched teeth. His hands fisted the sheet under him in an effort to not grab at the elf's head and force him down quicker. The long, slow glide of Fenris' mouth was torture. Fenris might have given Anders permission to do what he willed, but he was going to make sure Anders suffered in all the best ways for it.

He felt Fenris' throat ripple around his prick as the elf swallowed, but still he pressed on, and didn't stop until his nose hit Anders' pelvis.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Anders muttered. "Fuck that feels good."

Fenris moaned in appreciation and pulled back just as slowly, his cheeks hallowing out as his tongue teased the head of his cock. Anders needed to regain control of the situation. At this rate he would be begging for Fenris to fuck him to put him out of his misery.

He moved his hips away when Fenris released him and spun around on the bed. "Stay there." He wiggled under Fenris and his spread legs, his cock painting fluid over Anders' cheek and neck. He gripped Fenris' thighs and spread them wider, gliding his hands over his smooth ass and pulling the globes of his cheeks apart. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the elf's entrance. Fenris tensed until Anders gave it a soothing kiss. When he felt the elf relax once more and drop his weight onto Anders, the mage swirled the tip of his tongue around his anus with light, teasing strokes. Fenris retaliated by sinking once more onto Anders' erection. This time he took him down quicker, and the shock of his tight lips along his shaft had Anders moaning in approval.

Each circuit around the elf's entrance he dipped his tongue just inside before retreating again. When he felt Fenris was sufficiently relaxed, he delved further inside, his mouth opening wide to press his tongue deeper. On the last pass, Fenris' head shot up and he cried out in surprised pleasure when Anders traded his tongue for his finger. He sank it deep inside, crooking it at just the right spot. He chuckled low, glad for once he was about to show Fenris something new. He touched his index finger from his other hand to just under Fenris' sac and sent a small jolt of electricity dancing through the elf.

Fenris ripped his head away to avoid snapping his teeth together on Anders' prick. A shudder ran through him at the sensation and he groaned. He was barely aware of backing up into Anders' hands, silently begging for more of what the mage could give him.

When he had been with Danarius, the magister had taken without a thought for Fenris' pleasure beyond what would humiliate him more. Anders was proving Fenris' faith in him on his body, strumming each nerve ending inside him in ways he had never felt before.

Unable to risk taking his cock back in his mouth, Fenris enclosed it in both his fists and began pumping. The saliva soaked length slipped through the ring he made with his fingers. His movements became uncoordinated as Anders sent jolt after jolt through his body. It didn't just run a circuit through his balls and the nerves inside him, the feeling of Anders calling on magic pulled on his brands, making him nothing more than a writhing body that was open and willing to let Anders take and do what he willed.

It was a loss of control that frightened him at first, but the smell of sex and Anders permeated the air. It was a reminder of who he was with, and what they shared.

He dropped his head and bit down sharply on Anders' inner thigh. Anders grunted and he smiled against his skin. "Stop playing and fuck me."

The fingers in his ass paused. "Are you begging me?" Anders' leg jerked as Fenris bit him again in retaliation.

"Do you want me to?" Fenris would do it if Anders wanted him to. He was so close to doing it anyway, that one more spell would send him babbling over the edge.

"I should. For all the times you've made me." Anders corkscrewed his finger into his ass and he gasped. "Turn around. I want you to ride me."

Fenris sat up when Anders pulled his fingers free. He straddled the mage's waist and could feel his erection brushing against his backside insistently. Anders reached over and grabbed the vial of elfroot extract from the bedside table. He poured some out on his palm and reached around Fenris to coat his erection.

Anders pressed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes. "Shit. I won't last long." Fenris braced his hands on the mage's chest and leaned forward.

"Neither will I," he admitted. Two slick fingers entered him and Fenris rolled his hips into them. When Anders pulled free, Fenris rose up and guided the mage's cock to his entrance. Anders was staring at Fenris was such need, that his cock jumped in response. The slightest touch would set him off. His body was wound too tightly to make this last.

He sank down carefully on Anders' erection, and felt the slight burn as the hard length pushed its way inside. It seemed to take forever, and when Anders was imbedded to the hilt, Fenris began to move.

Anders held Fenris by the hips, his eyes taking in every detail of the elf. From the way his lips parted in pleasure, to the play of muscles that tensed and shook towards orgasm. His hips moved in a languid, torturous dance. With his head thrown back and his cock straining, Anders didn't think he had ever seen a more erotic sight.

But that was before Fenris began to speak.

"Fuck me, Anders," Fenris moaned. His hands caressed his own neck and chest, pinching at his nipples. "Fuck me."

The bed creaked under them as Anders' hands on his hips urged him on. He raised and lowered the elf on his cock, impaling him over and over. Anders bent his knees and braced his heels on the bed. He rolled his hips, slamming into Fenris each time he pulled the elf down.

The lewd slap of skin on skin filled the air, along with their cries of pleasure. Fenris reached behind him and held onto Anders' thighs, giving him better leverage as he jerked his hips. His cock waved neglected in the air, the tip shiny and wet from his excitement.

Anders curled the tips of his fingers so that they brushed where his cock disappeared into the elf. With his teeth on his lower lip, Anders sent magic into him. Fenris gave a shout, his body slamming down one last time and shuddered. His cock jerked, sending semen flying and splattering on Anders' stomach and chest.

"Oh, shit," Anders growled between clenched teeth. "I'm going to come. I'm going to—" He bit off the last part with a strangled cry, pulling Fenris down hard as he rode out his climax, his hips snapping.

Fenris slumped down on top of Anders, pressing kisses to his neck. "I love you."

Wrapping his arms tightly around the elf, Anders closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you," he promised. "Pounce won't either. He likes you." He felt more than saw Fenris roll his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bottom Fenris can still be top Fenris. ^_~


	28. Chapter 28

“Where are they going?” Fenris leaned against a wall in the courtyard and watched Aedan with three other wardens. All of them were suited in full armor and laden with heavy packs. The sun was setting above him and he and Anders had just recently exited their room. They had spent the better part of the day in bed together.  They had separated in front of the dining hall so Anders could eat and find Varric, and Fenris could seek out Aedan.

They had decided that the sooner they spoke to Aedan the better. The Warden-Commander had heard the same things that Fenris had from Danarius. He would figure things out if he hadn’t already. But when Fenris went to Aedan’s office, he had found it empty.

“I was under the impression that Aedan no longer ventured into the Deep Roads,” he said to Zevran, who had taken up a similar stance against the wall.

Zevran frowned, his eyes tracking Aedan as he and the other wardens entered the keep. “He does but rarely. He goes on occasion to meet the Architect and to escort certain wardens a small way into the Deep Roads.”

“And you do not go with him?” Fenris was surprised. Zevran was so protective of Aedan, that it was astonishing that the other elf was letting him venture into danger alone. He stifled the fissure of fear that raced up his spine. If Aedan was going to see the Architect, then he might already be too late.

Sighing, Zevran shrugged. “He does not wish it in this case, he never does. He escorts those that hear the Calling tonight. He sees it as his duty to send his men off one last time—alone. A little macabre, no? When he returns he will be morose and wish to drink alone in his office. I will wait approximately one hour for him to brood, before I pry the bottle from his hands and lead him into the bedroom. I allow him his way for a time, before the fun of my way. The next morning it will be as if he had not sent off some of his own to certain death.” He looked at Fenris out of the corner of his eyes and elegantly arched an eyebrow. “Until it happens again.”

“How often?” Fenris found himself asking. He hated the thought of the Calling. He had done the math—he may not read or write with any real proficiency, but he could add and subtract-- and knew it meant that one day in as little as ten years or as many as twenty, Anders was going to have to venture into the Deep Roads, drawn there by the blood he had ingested during the Joining. He would go and leave Fenris behind to wait his turn to join his lover in death.

“Often enough. Most are older wardens who have been assigned here from elsewhere.  Sometimes months go by with nothing. Sometimes it happens a few times a week. There are signs—Aedan asks that any warden whose dreams start to change come to him immediately. But sometimes they are in denial and do not come until it is almost too late to prepare.” Zevran pushed away from the wall and stretched his lithe body, with his arms over his head and his back arching.

It occurred to Fenris that Zevran would one day have to face the same thing. For reasons unknown to him, the assassin had never been made a warden. Aedan had only been a warden for about a year longer than Anders. He too would only have at most twenty years left before he would have to make the trip into the Deep Roads. Only, who would accompany him to send him off on his last journey?

“I have heard that the Architect may have a way to stop the Calling,” Fenris said carefully.

Zevran slowly lowered his arms and gave Fenris a considering look. “Did you? Velanna has been telling tales.” He held up his hand to forestall any objections. “I know it was her. She should not have said anything.”

“But if it could help,” Fenris began.

“Ah, but if it cannot... Rumors like that could become dangerous to those that are desperate. It gives false hope.” Zevran spread his hands helplessly. “I do not pretend to understand all that the Architect does, magic is not my specialty.” He gave Fenris a small, lewd grin, telling him without words just what his specialty was. “But I do know that for some wardens, such false hope of surviving to an old age will only lead to disappointment. Especially for those that do not wish to see loved ones die alone.” He gave Fenris a significant glance and he looked away, unable to meet Zevran’s knowing gaze.

“I would have thought you would be joyous knowing there was a chance that Aedan would not have to leave you one day,” Fenris said quietly. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers along his bicep.

“One would think that. But my warden will not be leaving me.” Zevran looked off into the distance, his gaze turning inward. “When the day comes that his dreams become too much, I will go with him to his final battle. We will drown the Deep Roads in darkspawn blood before the hordes take us down. It is a good way to die.” He turned back towards Fenris, a humorous glint in his eyes. “And I would know all about bad ways to die. Some of them are quite degrading. Would you like to hear about them?”

Fenris ignored the question, because he knew the other elf had asked only to change the subject. Despite Zevran’s nonchalant attitude, Fenris could detect the hint of sorrow underlining his words.  The Calling was a subject that he and Anders had never broached. Neither one of them wanted to have that final period added to the sentence that was their relationship. But it had never occurred to Fenris that he could just go with Anders, just as Zevran would travel with Aedan.

But the moment the idea had taken root in his mind, it withered and died. Anders would not allow it. The mage would not want to see Fenris die before his time, no matter that Anders’ passing would leave Fenris alone.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Zevran clapped a hand on his shoulder and gestured with a flourish towards the keep. “Shall we go in? I hear your dwarf friend is starting a card game tonight. I for one am looking forward to seeing him fleece the others.”

Fenris nodded and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. His hair was becoming too long; he would need to cut it soon. Anders had begged him not to touch it. Once the image of Fenris with longer hair had taken hold, the mage hadn’t been able to let it go, no matter that Fenris told him it was a hindrance in battle.

He followed Zevran and the other elf called over his shoulder. “You are a warden now. The only certainty is that you will die killing darkspawn in one way or another. Do not forget that.”

Fenris wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget it. But that didn’t mean he had to accept it.

***

“Four whores in the brothel,” Varric said, spreading his cards on the table. The others groaned and Varric swept his winnings towards the growing pile of gold in front of him. Howe gathered the cards and shuffled them, grumbling under his breath. Varric smirked into his tankard of Devlin’s best, his eyes skipping around the table to land on the one person he had been avoiding looking at all evening.

The things that the Desire demon had whispered into his mind still clung with barbed tendrils sunk deep. She had murmured to him about Bianca and all that he could have if he just let her in. He had never been more tempted by a demon before, and he had encountered his fair share with Hawke.

Dwarves did not have the connection to the Fade that the other inhabitants of Thedas had, but that did not mean that they were immune to what a demon could do to them. It did not mean that a Desire demon couldn’t find a dwarf in a moment of weak remembrance, and latch onto it like a lyrium addict finding an open door in a Chantry storehouse.

His eyes flickered over to Sigrun and moved away before she could notice. He set his tankard down and picked up the cards Howe dealt, rearranging them with his mind only on half of what was in his hands. Isabela had once asked him who Bianca was, and he had been able to deftly change the subject. He _never_ talked about her to anyone. The only one left alive who knew was Bartrand, and no one believed the ramblings that came out of _his_ mouth these days.  But the moment he had seen Sigrun he knew that there was someone who knew what had happened to her.

_“That’s funny. I knew someone named Bianca once. She was in the Legion of the Dead. Great warrior. She went down fighting. I still miss her sometimes.”_

She had been so earnest talking about Bianca and the way she had died, that she had missed the way Varric’s face had paled. It had taken all of his willpower to smile and nod, while inside he lost what little hope he had been carrying all these years.

In truth he had mourned and buried Bianca long ago. He had named his crossbow in honor of her to rankle his father, the man who had set her up for disgrace, and forcing her to join the legion in order to clear her family’s name. He had never forgiven his father for that; their relationship had been irrevocably broken that day.

The small hope that she still lived--that tiny flame he had nurtured—died when Sigrun had opened her mouth, her words snuffing it out and leaving nothing behind.

“Varric?” His eyes jerked up to see that Sigrun was talking to him. “Your turn.” She really was beautiful, Varric thought.  Even with the inked lines of a skull superimposed on her face, he could see she was pretty. He had never seen Bianca with her own tattoo that marked her as one of the legion. He had last seen her in Kirkwall, hurling accusations at his father.

 She gave him a questioning look and he realized he was staring. “Are you all right?”

“Course he aint,” Oghren groused. “You ever see a beardless dwarf that was all right in the head? Bet he’s drank too much. Surfacers can’t hold their liquor.”

Glad for the chance to regain his mental equilibrium, Varric smiled and glanced down at the cards in his hands. “You, good ser, are a testament to all that is Orzammar.” He threw down a templar card and Anders tossed his own cards down on the table, throwing up his hands.

“I’m out.” He glanced back at the doors leading to the dining hall. He’d been doing it so much that Varric wondered if his head was going to snap off his neck.

“But I wonder,” Varric continued and scooped up the lady that Velanna had discarded. “How long have you been a warden now? A few years?  There are some—not me by the way—who think the moment a dwarf steps on the surface he’s lost. That he’s become,” There was a pregnant pause, and he could just feel everyone at the table holding their breath. In telling a tale one had to know how to hold one’s audience.  He let the tension grow as he nonchalantly rearranged his cards once more. When he had felt enough time had passed, when everyone was leaning towards him in anticipation, he continued on.

“A surfacer.”

Oghren sputterd into his ale, spraying foam into his beard as the rest of the table laughed. He looked up and caught Sigrun’s laughing eyes as he spread his cards on the table. “Good queen and three templars in the castle. Wicked Grace.”

This time, while everyone else groaned as Varric took their money, Sigrun only gave him a mysterious smile.

***

Where was Fenris? Anders had left the game, deciding that it was best to walk away before Varric made himself any richer off what little the mage had. He took the steps leading down to the dungeon two at a time, betting that the elf went to have his talk with Varania without Anders.

Of course, seeing as how all the bets he made tonight were bound to lose, Fenris was nowhere to be seen.

“I know you.” Varania stood from the pile of fresh straw she had been given as her only means of comfort. “You prevented Leto from killing me.”

Not for the first time, Anders was a bit startled by her appearance. Her hair was such a vivid red, that Anders had a hard time picturing Fenris with such a color. It was her eyes that drew him in the most, the same shade of mossy green that Anders woke up to every morning. It was those eyes that made it hard for Anders to want her death. Knowing those eyes—so like his lover’s—would glaze over as the templars took her head or made her Tranquil, propelled Anders to want to seek a better way.

“His name is Fenris.” Anders knew he shouldn’t be talking to her, not like this. But like most things in his life, what was best and what he did was not always the same thing.

“That is the name Danarius gave him, that’s not my Leto.” She walked over to the bars and wrapped her fingers around them.

“Your Leto? Do you mean the one who you let sacrifice himself so that you could gain your freedom? That Leto?” Okay, so he didn’t want her dead, that didn’t mean he had to like her. “The one who you betrayed so you could become a blood mage?”

Varania’s face went ashen. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’re a mage, you’ve had training. I had no one to teach me the things I needed to know.”

The bridge of her nose wrinkled as she scowled. Anders had seen enough of that look to know that it was a family trait. “So to get training all you had to do was betray your brother and slaughter a group of people? Which by the way, was really disgusting. Your interior design skills are horrible.” He tapped his finger to his lip. “Did I say horrible? I meant sickening--literally. I vomited when I saw it.”

“And what would you have had me do?” she asked him. “He would have killed me.”

“You should have died then!” Anders shouted. “You should have fought, ran, done… something. Those people…”

A tear rolled down Varania’s dirt stained cheek, cleansing a small path. “I did not help him. I could not. But I could not stop him either. I… I only wanted something better. I--” Her eyes grew wide and she took a step back from the bars. She flung out a hand and smacked it against the rugged stone wall next to her.

“What are…“ Anders drew in a sharp breath as he watched her scrape her palm across the stone and wince. She thrust out her blood stained hand towards him.

“Behind you!” she cried.

Anders turned just in time to see the club coming towards his face. He jerked back, but not quick enough as it slammed into his head. Everything went white around the edges of his vision and he fell to the ground. He could smell blood in the air and hear Varania shouting, screaming for him to get up and run.

Darkness encroached on the white and he could feel blood trickling down his face. He rolled his eyes upwards and three darkspawn stared back at him, their eyes shining with an intelligence he knew all too well. It was something he had never wanted to see again.

His arms were jerked and he weakly fought back, the blow to the head making him dizzy and disoriented. He felt the pull from the Fade and heard Varania casting as the bars to her cell squealed in protest.

“Get away from me,” he heard her scream. His eyes felt heavy and he knew he was losing his grip on consciousness.

“Leave her alone,” he croaked. Or he thought he did as the darkness won out and he knew nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are getting to end game here. Only a few more chapters to go. There is a definite sequel in the works that will take place in Weisshaupt. There will be a few days break before I post it after TSWK is finished. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for being so supportive!


	29. Chapter 29

Anders opened his eyes and blinked. His head was throbbing, and he felt like he'd engaged in a drinking contest with Oghren—and lost. He groaned and moved his hand to rub at his pounding head. His arm jerked to a halt and he lifted his head to glance at it.

He was strapped down…

…naked on a table…

…in the Deep Roads.

"This is depressingly familiar." Anders dropped his head back down, and cursed when the jolt reverberated through his skull. Along with the headache, he could feel darkspawn scrambling about in his head. His eyes grew wide at the amount that was in the vicinity. The Architect had been busy these past few years.

Very busy, if the chamber he was currently in was any indication.

The chamber was large and the stone ceiling looked new. Fresh chisel marks could be seen, smoothing the stone until it was almost blemish free. The smell of damp and rot that normally permeated the Deep Roads was only an underlying note in the air.

"This is more than depressingly familiar," said a voice next to him. Anders turned his head and cursed again when he saw who was lying next to him, bound as he was to a second table.

"I should have killed him the first time," Aedan said. He was nude as well and Anders felt an inappropriate flush creep up his face to heat his ears. Scars old and fading crisscrossed amongst newer ones along the side Anders was facing. Hair as dark as the strands on his head, spread over a wide chest and thickly muscled arms. Aedan was a large man, and not an inch of it was fat.

Aedan lifted his head as far as he was able, straining against the leather straps. "You hear me you asshole!" he shouted. "Show yourself you fucking coward!" His challenge sounded dull in the chamber, the tone falling flat. There was so much earth above them, that nothing echoed the way it should.

Aedan glared at the only entrance to the chamber, his muscles tensed in anticipation. The leather straps around his wrists creaked as he clenched and unclenched his fist rhythmically, as if he could feel a sword hilt in his palm. "Come on!" he called again. "You killed some good men to get to me tonight and you don't even bother to greet me?"

"I did not do such a thing." The Architect swept into the room and a chill went down Anders spine. He would never get use to seeing the darkspawn and the intelligence shining out his eyes. He had always felt that if the Architect was the new evolution of the darkspawn, then the wardens—the whole of Thedas—was in terrible danger. When the darkspawn were mindless-their only driving goal to find the Old Gods-they were dangerous enough, but when they could think for themselves…

"So it was other talking darkspawn that killed the wardens I was with?" Aedan's eyes narrowed as the Architect drew closer. "My mistake."

"I'm afraid you have the right of it. I did not expect you to venture into the Deep Roads after you canceled your request for a meeting. If I had, I would have tried to stop you." The darkspawn stopped to stand between the two tables. Whatever the Architect was, he was dangerous and could never be trusted. Anders didn't know what deals Aedan had made with him over the years, but it couldn't be worth what was happening now.

"Varania." The sounds of her screams echoed in Anders ears. "Where is she?"

When those cold, calculating eyes turned his way, Anders fought to not flinch. "She has not been harmed. Utha and Seranni are with her now."

"Oh, great," Anders muttered. "Leave her with the ghouls." Aedan shot him a look and Anders snapped his mouth shut.

"And why would you have tried to stop me?" Aedan drew the Architect's attention back to him. "I would really love to know."

The Architect folded his hands together and slipped them into the sleeves of his robes. "I am no longer master of this domain. Another has usurped my place here and seeks to use me for his own gains. It has become too dangerous. He is the one that sent the darkspawn upon you and had them bring you here."

"Too dangerous." Anders was incredulous. "Don't you mean _more_ dangerous? This is the Deep Roads you're talking about."

"Anders!" Aedan hissed. "Shut it—now."

'Ser, yes, ser." Anders really couldn't help himself. There was something truly wrong with him that he had such a disconnect between his mind and his mouth. They moved independently of each other at the worst times. When he and Justice had been together, he'd had a constant presence in his mind that had a front row seat to all the things Anders wanted to say-and did say. His running commentary had become more internal. But with Justice gone, words that should be held back just slipped passed his lips.

He was surprised Fenris hadn't strangled him in his sleep yet.

Aedan ignored him and drew the Architect's focus back. "Someone else has control of the darkspawn?"

The Architect inclined his head in assent. "Yes, a being who calls himself Corypheus. He currently inhabits the body of a warden turned ghoul. He came to me two weeks ago, seeking help in understanding this world. I am under the impression he had been imprisoned for some time, and only recently had been released. I know not the details, for he has not shared them with me. For a time, he and I exchanged information. He seemed interested in my work."

"A little too interested," Aedan surmised.

"Just so. He is old, very old. His memories before his imprisonment are of so long ago, that at times I did not know of what he spoke of. He is also very cunning. He has Utha and Seranni in a cell. He will not let them go until the work I do for him is done. I cannot leave for he has set guards at all the exits. I have been trapped here for days now."

"So why bring us here, then? Why not kill us?" Aedan had hit upon the very questions that Anders wanted answered. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from adding his own voice.

"I believe he seeks to create an army of darkspawn that are independent from the pull of the Old Gods. He has commanded me to start work, and so far I have been able to stall him."

"And you need warden blood." Aedan finally dropped his head back against the table, and Anders wondered how he had been able to hold it up for so long. Right… Muscles…

"Release us, and I'll kill him for you. Problem solved." Aedan jiggled his arm, pulling it against the strap.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to kill him. He is-as I said-very old. His knowledge of the darkspawn is unparalleled. If I could wrest control back, I will be able to learn so much from him to aid me in freeing my brethren." The Architect sounded contrite, but one had only to look in his eyes to see the cunning underlying his words.

"You want to work with him. Sounds to me like your have divergent goals. If he seeks to build an army of his own…" A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, biting off the rest of what he was going to say.

"I feel that I can make him see reason. After all, I made you see it." The Architect's lips curled in a parody of a smile.

"That's different and you know it," Aedan shot back. "I think some of your work has merit. I come to give you my blood as we agreed, and in return your darkspawn keep some of the Deep Roads clear, and you don't go looking for anymore Old Gods."

Anders sucked in a quick, shocked breath. "What? Is that why you let him live? You…" Anders floundered for words.

Aedan spoke to him, but didn't take his eyes off the darkspawn. "How do you think the expedition you went on was able to get so deep with little darkspawn interference? The lot of you would have been overrun the moment you stepped near it if I hadn't. This agreement has saved a lot of lives."

"Well thank you for that," Anders quipped. "Seriously, thank you. Allowing us to get into that thaig really made life better for everyone in Kirkwall, and had no unintended consequences. I mean, if we had run into too many darkspawn, we might have had to actually turn back." Anders blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes. Aedan never realized what kind of person he was. His slightest actions always seemed to have a ripple effect. People like that were larger than life and changed whole countries.

Or inadvertently collapse a system of slavery in a city.

"Sorry," Anders whispered. He opened his eyes to see Aedan give him a small nod.

"So," Aedan said, bringing them back to the matter at hand. "What do you plan to do with us then? I am expected back, and Anders will be missed if he hasn't been already. The wardens will come looking for us."

"That is up to you. I will only release you on the condition that you help me capture Corypheus. Once done, you both and the elven woman will be released." The Architect gave his ultimatum as if they had another choice. But as Anders eyed Aedan and the way his hand had resumed its clenching, he thought that maybe Aedan might be thinking of a another option.

"What if I just decide to kill you?" Aedan asked, giving voice to his thoughts.

"You have proven to be an honorable man. You will not once your word has been given." The darkspawn seemed so sure of his self, that Anders felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew the Architect was right.

So did Aedan if the note of resignation in his voice was any indication. "Fine. But I cannot guarantee his capture. If he is what you say, then I might be forced to kill him."

The Architect nodded his assent. "If he proves unable to listen to reason, then you must do as you see fit."

* * *

"Darkspawn blood." Sigrun knelt down in the cell that had once been Varania's and touched her fingers to the dark pool on the floor. "Someone gave as good as they got before they were taken." She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hand in the straw piled in the corner. The door to the cell had been wrenched open and it hung crookedly off of one hinge.

She pointed to the blood in front of the cell. "Someone bled a lot. I don't know if it was Varania or…" She chewed on her lower lip and shot Fenris a concerned glance.

"Or if it was Anders." Fenris was pacing the dungeon, his eyes flickering over and over to the blood on the floor. "It's been hours. He is not in the keep and he would not have left without informing me. If darkspawn were here, there can be only one conclusion."

Zevran flipped a dagger into the air. It whirled point over end before he caught it by the hilt and did it again. "The darkspawn would have had to pass Aedan on the way in. I do not like that they were able to get this far."

"Can't you wardens sense them coming?" Varric asked. He glanced from one person to another.

"It depends," Velanna replied. "If they were quick enough, they could have been in and out before we noticed."

"Found them." Nate and Oghren came up the stairs that led further into the keep and the entrance to the Deep Roads. "All four of the wardens set to guard the entrance are dead." Nate stroked the little bit of facial hair just under his lip. "There are two dead darkspawn with them."

Nate and Zevran exchanged a concerned look. "Aedan would not have let them by," the elf said. "He would have tried to stop them."

The others looked to Nate. With Aedan gone, he was in command. "All right. We need to find out what happened. We meet back here in fifteen minutes. I can't go, but I will make sure you have enough wardens to make the Architect think twice about pulling a stunt like this again."

"I'm going as well." Varric hefted Bianca.

"No." Nate shook his head. "You're not a warden. The chance that you might contract the taint is too high, unless you want to attempt the Joining before you go." He glanced over at Zevran. "That goes for you too. Aedan would never forgive me if you became tainted. You know that's why he doesn't let you down there with him."

"I would like to see you stop me." Zevran sheathed his dagger and placed his hand on the hilt."If my warden is in danger then I go to save him, yes? Or if he is dead, then I go to find those responsible. Aedan would expect no less."

"Why are we discussing this? We are wasting time," Fenris snarled. He turned and strode towards the stairs, taking them two at a time to retrieve his sword and armor. The look on his face must have been frightening. Wardens that roamed the halls stepped out of his path as he made his way towards the armory.

There was no time to quibble over armor that was not made to his specifications the way he had the last time he was here. Had that really only been two days ago? If the Architect was behind Anders' disappearance, he could not have picked a more perfect time. They were still weak and tired from the fight at the Three Corners.

Fenris grabbed the same type of armor he had worn during the confrontation with Danarius. Only this time, the blacksmith was not present to make any sort of last minute modifications. Fenris slipped on a pair of leather boots that reached his knees. Steel was riveted to the leather, protecting his shins. He let a chainmail shirt settle over his chest before slipping on the tabard of the Grey Wardens. Lastly, he pulled on his gauntlets, giving a quick kiss to the string tied to his wrist before he did. He ignored the wall lined with steel chest plates. He had felt too top heavy with it on. It had given him more protection, but with the way Fenris fought, he needed his speed. He grabbed his sword-newly cleaned and honed to a sharp edge-off the wall and ran out of the room.

It never occurred to Fenris that Anders had left the keep of his own volition. Maybe when he had been host to the demon, but not now. Their promises to each other to run if Aedan told Weisshaupt about him, had only just been made. The mage did not say such things lightly, no matter how many other things he took less seriously.

If the darkspawn had him—if he had hurt Anders in anyway—then Maker help him.


	30. Chapter 30

Anders was not staring at Aedan's well shaped backside. Nope. He wasn't looking at the way those taut muscles moved and flexed under his skin as he pulled on his clothes. Not. At. All. That would be inappropriate and wrong-so very, _very_ wrong.

"If you keep staring at me like I'll be forced to tell Zev." Aedan turned around and laced up his pants. He arched an eyebrow at Anders when the mage followed the thick trail of hair all the way down from Aedan's chest to where it tapered and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. He snagged his tunic off the pile of clothes and armor spilling out over the table he had been strapped to. "You don't want that."

"Um…" Anders sat on the edge of his table and pulled on his boots.

" He'll either kill you or try to lure you into our bed. Neither one of those is an option for me." Aedan began the tedious task of getting his armor back on. It took years of practice in order to lift and position the heavy pieces without help-even then it was a challenge. He was able to pull most of it on without assistance, except for his gauntlets. He held out his arm and gave Anders a questioning look. "A little help here?"

Anders was still trying to process the idea that Zevran would try to get him into bed with him and Aedan. He blinked rapidly to clear the image from his mind and hopped down from the table. "Is that a regular occurrence?" he asked despite himself. He helped Aedan slip on one gauntlet and did the straps that would secure it for him.

"No." Aedan didn't need Anders to clarify. "He wouldn't mean it. At least, I don't think he would."

"You don't know?" Anders reached for any topic that didn't have to do with what they were about to face. It was something older than the Architect and more powerful. Their odds were… not good. They had discussed freeing Varania first-they could use another mage-but Anders was against it. He didn't know the extent of her training, and adding blood magic into the mix might not be a good idea.

"Nope." Aedan didn't elaborate as Anders helped him into the other gauntlet.

"Why haven't you made him a warden yet?" Anders stepped back as Aedan unsheathed his sword and eyed it down its length. Anders had wondered about that when he had returned to Vigil's Keep and found that Zevran still had not attempted the Joining after all these years.

"No point." Aedan flipped his sword over and checked the other side. "Why should I risk him on the Joining? He does enough for the wardens without it." A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Too much at times."

"He does it for you," Anders pointed out.

"I know. But when he comes to me after being gone for days-smelling of expensive perfume-only to hear about the death of a women that was plotting to incite the other arls against me, I have to wonder if it's worth it." Aedan didn't bother sheathing his sword and hefted his shield. He stomped a few times to make sure his boots were on tight and nodded to himself in satisfaction.

Anders didn't know what to say to that. What could one say? He knew what he would do if Fenris came to him smelling of another. Being so blasé about it was _not_ it. He wondered if the others knew-as they had known that Zevran was looking out for Aedan's interests in his own way all this time. He didn't think so. Something like that was just too private. A pit opened up in Anders' gut that Aedan would chose to share something like that with him of all people-at this of all times.

"You don't think we can do this, do you?" Anders asked him, afraid of the answer.

"Nope. We don't stand a chance. But I figure we just start killing until this Corypheus is dead-or we are."

Anders dropped his face in his hands. "That's not very reassuring," he muttered into his palms. Anders was startled as Aedan clapped a steel encased hand on his back, sending the mage stumbling forward.

"Cheer up. You haven't even heard the rest of the plan yet." Anders looked up to see Aedan giving him a cocksure grin. It was times like this that Anders thought he could see the young man who became a warden and gathered an army to fight an Archdemon.

"Don't tell me. We rush out here and kill everything that tries to stop us. I heal-you do the hacking and the slashing." Anders reached behind him and pulled his staff free, his fingers clasping well worn grooves in the wood.

"Close. First we free the blood mage." Aedan moved towards the exit and peeked around the corner into what passed for a hallway.

"Great. Best plan ever, Aedan. I feel my odds of surviving going up with every word," Anders sighed as he followed. "Aren't you a noble? Didn't you learn tactics at all?"

Aedan stepped out into the hall, and his eyes swept the dark corners not lit by flickering torches. "That was for my brother. Second sons don't need to learn shit, except for how to pick a good whore and who to flatter. Maybe-if you showed proficiency-to look good in the lists and win tournaments. I wasn't expected to do much."

The hallway was built the same as the chamber they had been held in. Fresh chisel marks denoted new construction and an attempt at order. Anders didn't know if it was the Architect that had done it, or Corypheus. Neither one was a comforting answer. Darkspawn didn't build, not in a way that meant home or permanence. They created shelters, but not something crafted from stone.

"I do not like all this opening up before battle, Aedan. It implies that we might not live so you want to tell me your life story." Anders readied a spell. His hands glowed a bright blue and the air around him cooled. Pulling from the Fade felt different without the added power of Justice behind it. He had noticed that his spells had diminished since the spirit had left him.

They had gone some ways down the hall before Aedan abruptly stopped. He tilted his head to the side, and his eyebrows drew down in concentration. Anders copied his movements in an attempt to hear what Aedan was listening for. Since Aedan had joined during a blight, the man could sense darkspawn sooner than most. Anders had learned very quickly that when he got that look on his face, you better stop and listen.

"Do you feel that?" Aedan turned his head towards Anders.

"I don't feel anything different than what I have been feeling since we woke up." Anders shrugged.

"That's just it. I can feel them all around us. But," he pointed with his sword to the stone beneath them, "There's something different, just there." Aedan gasped and flung out a hand to steady his self on the wall. Anders reached for him, taking the few steps needed to come to his side.

It was close enough.

The voice that thundered through his mind hit him harder than anything Justice had ever done. Anders cried out and clutched at his head, dropping his staff to clatter on the floor. The voice hammered into his psyche. It felt like his skull was being cracked open and all his thoughts, all that he was were leaking out from the split.

His eyes rolled in his head and he dropped to his hands and knees. Dimly he was aware of Aedan fighting to stay upright, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.

This was what the Architect was afraid of. Corypheus bore his way through Anders' mind, using the path that the Joining had created. The voice did not use words so much as a compulsion. Anders fought the being that invaded his mind. He fought against the compulsion to give up and submit to a greater presence.

If he could do this to anyone with a hint of the taint in their blood, then the wardens were all in terrible danger. The spell on his hands winked out, and he stumbled to his feet. How could they hope to even begin to fight something that could do this to them?

He grasped Aedan by his arm and pulled on him, urging him forward. With each step the two took, the compulsion grew more intense until Anders had a difficult time hearing his own thoughts. He heard an enraged scream and he wasn't sure if it had been him or Aedan. Each second seemed like an eternity as they moved down the hall. Anders had wondered that there were no guards placed on them, now he knew why.

But still they pressed on, until suddenly the voice stopped. The relief was so great that they both fell to their knees, Aedan with a clang when he hit the ground. Sweat trickled down Anders' face as he knelt, his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs.

"Aedan," he choked out.

The commander rose to his feet and weaved before regaining his balance. "No way are we letting that thing live," Aedan growled. "No fucking way." For someone clad almost entirely in metal, Aedan could move quickly when he wished. He took off at a run towards the end of the hall, leaving Anders to scramble to his feet and follow in his wake.

* * *

If there was one warden who Fenris did not want with them, it was Christopher. He eyed the healer as their group ventured further into the Deep Roads. With Anders gone, Nate had insisted that they take a healer with them. Christopher was the next best qualified, one of Anders' star pupils.

 _I just bet he is_ , Fenris thought darkly.

In all there were twenty wardens along with Fenris, Sigrun, Velanna and Oghren. Nate had roused the whole keep, all eighty-three of the wardens that currently resided there. Watches were organized and guards posted at the entrance to the Deep Roads. It happened so quickly and efficiently, that Fenris knew that the Warden-Commander had anticipated the day the Architect would betray them.

Varric had stayed behind to lend his aid to Nate. That he didn't take up Howe's offer to attempt the Joining didn't surprise Fenris. The dwarf would never permanently leave the little kingdom he had built for himself in Kirkwall. Not unless it was a very compelling reason. Becoming a Grey Warden was not one of them.

A man named Bethan took point with Fenris and Oghren. Beshan had accompanied Aedan several times to meet with the Architect, and he knew the way. The grizzled warden sported a thick graying beard that rivaled Oghren's. He spoke very little beyond what was needed as he led them down twisting and crumbling paths.

As they drew closer to what Beshan described as the Architect's territory, the decaying aspect of the Deep Roads gave way to smoother stone, free of the rubble that littered the rest of the caverns. Lichen did not grow here, or if it did, then it had been cleared away with the rest of the debris.

For the first time as a warden, Fenris felt the nudging in his mind of the darkspawn. It started as a small scratching, a questing touch, and then it grew into a clawing, searching feeling that made him feel unclean. He wasn't the only warden to notice it. All around him, wardens tightened up hands on their weapons. He felt the swift pull of the Fade through his brands, as more than one mage readied their spells. His markings flared to life as he took a small step into the Fade. Justice's warning rang in his ears, and he brushed off the memory. One half step into the Fade would not open the door. As long as he did not push the boundary, then there would be no reason for Justice to carry out his sentence.

Beshan held up his hand in a closed fist and the rest of the wardens immediately stopped their march. Although Velanna had been put in charge, the rest of the group deferred to Beshan and his more recent forays into this part of the Deep Roads. Fenris gave the man a questioning look as Beshan peered around the chamber they had entered.

"This isn't right. Usually the Architect has a few darkspawn here to act as envoys to those that enter his territory. There should be guards here as well. I don't kno—"

He was cut off as the first warden began to scream.

* * *

Anders and Aedan had slipped into yet another empty chamber. As they made their way to where the Architect had told them that Varania was being held, Anders became increasingly uneasy. That's not to say he wasn't _already_ uneasy, but he had upgraded from terrified to just wanting to run for his life, screaming like a little girl.

Aedan wasn't helping.

"This is new." Aedan moved his eyes around the empty room. "There weren't this many chambers when I came here two months ago."

 _Yes, Aedan_ , Anders thought. _Please tell me more about how you don't know this place and how much it has changed. That really makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside._ He had stopped saying as much to the warrior. It only earned him less than amused glares.

Anders could feel the strange presence the deeper into the Architect's lair they went. It felt like a large spot of darkness had taken up residence among the smaller ones that denoted darkspawn. He didn't know what it meant, only that with each step they took they were being brought closer to the looming darkness. Anders found himself searching out shadows as the feeling of eyes watching their every move grew.

They exited the chamber into a long hallway. A large set of intimidating stone doors sat at the end. An ogre could stand on another's head and still there would be clearance for the horns of the one on top. Ornate carvings swept in an intricate pattern up the doors. Despite what he told his feet, they drew him closer and he could just make out what they were.

"Maker," Aedan breathed. He snatched a torch off the wall and lifted it high. Flickering torchlight gave the carvings of entangled bodies-their mouths twisted in a rictus of terror-the appearance of writhing in agony. They both tilted their heads back, and their eyes scanned the macabre scene emblazoned in stone.

"Let me guess," Anders whispered. "This is also new." He felt like if he was too loud, the figures on the door would stop their eternal screaming and turn their horrified eyes on him.

Aedan's face was set in grim lines. "Never seen it before." He abruptly dropped the torch and swept his shield from his back when the doors creaked. A crack appeared in the center, splitting the scene apart and sending stone dust raining down on them. Anders covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed as the dust choked him. He took a few steps back until he was behind Aedan and lifted his staff high. The spell on his hand shot up the wood, condensing into a tight ball at its tip.

Anders felt his hands shaking and the ball of his ice spell bobbed as it reverberated up his staff. The doors opened inwards, without any sign of a hand helping its path. Light spilled out, casting shadows into the hallway.

"Hold, Anders." Aedan slid one of his legs back, bracing himself as he held his shield up. Anders' boots had scuffed along the stones as he took a step back.

"We need to run, Aedan. We can't… I can't…" The trembling that had started in his hands had traveled up his body and seized his throat. "There are too many of them."

Before them, stood more snarling darkspawn than Anders had ever seen in one place. And in the center, standing with the Architect on a dais, was a man. Anders could see why the Architect thought that he was a warden. He looked like one. His craggy and scarred face told of many battles. Black lines, just under the surface of his skin, would normally have had Anders thinking he was a ghoul. But the cunning and malevolence that brightened his eyes showed that he was much more.

"If we run we won't make it," Aedan pronounced over his shoulder. "Better to die facing them head on than with a sword stuck into our backs."

Anders knew that Aedan was speaking the truth. If they ran, the horde would be upon them in seconds. There was nowhere to hide, no escape. The directions the Architect had given them to Varania had led them straight into Corypheus' arms.

Anders closed his eyes and tried to calm his rising panic. It only took the barest of moments, but his thoughts raced as if he had all the time in the world. He thought of his life in the Anderfels and the good memories he had of his mother. He thought of the times he had escaped the circle, his youthful brashness making it more of a game than the life or death chances he had been taking. He remembered Karl and the first time he had slept with a man. He recalled how Aedan had stood up for him against the templars, seeing something in Anders that the mage had never seen in himself.

_Seeing the joy on a free mage's face when they kissed the ground of the Kirkwall sewers._

_Playing wicked grace at the Hanged Man._

_Hawke and her faith in him to keep her secrets._

_Fenris and his hand on Anders' heart._

_The first time Fenris had kissed him. The feeling of his lips and the questions behind them._

_Fenris' face full of abandonment and vulnerability as their bodies strained against each other for the first time._

_Those words that Anders had always wanted to hear, coming out of Fenris' mouth, in that smooth voice that Anders had always loved._

_Fenris…_

Anders sucked in a quick, shuddering breath. A tear tracked its way down his cheek and he blinked rapidly. Fenris would be alone. Would he realize that he had friends among the other wardens, or would he shut himself away?

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, and when his trembling ceased, Anders gave a nod of his head that Aedan couldn't see. "I'm ready."

Anders' cue was all Aedan needed. He let out a roar and clanged his sword against his shield. "Come on!" As one, the darkspawn roared back and rushed at the two wardens, spilling out of the door way like tainted blood from an open wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge cliffhanger. The next chapter will be posted tomorrow.


	31. Chapter 31

Blood sprayed in Aedan's face as he pulled his sword free from the darkspawn before him. The body crumpled to a ground already littered with the corpses of its brethren. Black blood covered the commander from head to steel clad toes, and his eyes glinted grimly from a gruesome mask. The worry that Aedan might catch the taint might have been nullified by the Joining, but that didn't mean the fight was any less deadly. His armor was battered in places, rent from darkspawn weapons and an ogre's horns that had met his end when Aedan thrust his sword into the beast's heart. This was what Aedan was meant for. Not bureaucracy. Not ruling an arldom. But the feeling of when his steel met the flesh of his foe, and the hilt of his weapon in his hand. He had felt like this once before, fighting his way to the Archdemon. In that moment he had felt he had a purpose, a meaning in his life beyond the drudgery of a second son. In that moment, when the odds were so against him and the cause he fought for, he had found a peace that he hadn't known existed.

Anders was terrified.

He had long ago run out of his meager store of lyrium potions he always kept on hand. He had been in the keep, so there was no need to have more beyond what he might need in emergencies.

This was an emergency.

He and Aedan had stayed in the hallway, letting the darkspawn funnel to them. That had worked until the ogre had shown up, barreling its way through smaller darkspawn, and flinging them aside like bothersome ants. There had been nowhere to move to escape the charge, and Anders had to quickly construct a shield to prevent Aedan from being skewered on the ogre's horns. As it was, it had crashed into Aedan, slamming the man into the wall, cracking the stone surface. If Aedan hadn't lifted his sword in time and allow its own momentum to impale itself, then the warden would have been dead.

And still they kept coming.

Anders was reaching the limit of what he could do. In between healing Aedan and himself, he threw ice and fire from his staff in an attempt to slow the onslaught down. But his spells were flagging as his mana began to wane. With no more lyrium potions left, he had to draw from his own life force to keep going. It wouldn't be long now before either the darkspawn, or his own spells sapped him of his life.

He had always wondered what it would take to make him consider the desperate act of blood magic. This was it. A demon could help turn the tide, aiding them when they needed it most. The extra power that Justice had given him was only a taste of what Anders could literally have at his fingertips, if he only gave in and allowed a demon his body. As Anders threw another cone of ice at the darkspawn rushing for Aedan, and felt his body weakening further, he almost surrendered. He and Aedan would live, but at what cost? None of his friends would look at him the same, no matter how justified Anders might have been. And Fenris… Fenris did not fight to free him from Justice, only to see him capitulate to another demon. There would be no symbiotic relationship with anything Anders could deal with from the Fade. There would be no coexistence. There would only be domination and destruction, enough to make him long for the days of Justice and the spirit's lesser control. Anders would become an abomination in truth, and he didn't want to live if that was the life he was to have.

His time was done.

If there was no way out except forward, then Anders would do what needed to be done to make sure that Aedan was victorious. Aedan who would ensure that the Architect and Corypheus paid, and he was integral to the wardens of Ferelden. He would take care of Fenris for Anders. Because when you got down to it—even if he would never admit it—the elf needed someone to care enough to want to take care of him, despite his prickly demeanor.

He wouldn't let Fenris down by accepting demonic aid, but he wouldn't leave him completely alone either.

* * *

The one person who was not a warden ended up being their saving grace. Zevran had been trailing along behind the wardens, and each one of them pretended like he wasn't there. No one spoke to him, or pointed him out. It was as if each one had decided on their own that when they got found Aedan, they wanted plausible deniability as to who knew that Zevran had come into the Deep Roads, when the Warden-Commander had expressly forbidden him from doing so.

No one wanted to be at the other end of _that_ dressing down.

One by one, the wardens fell to their knees, clutching their heads as a presence filled their minds. It called to them, urging them to submit to the stronger will. Some of the wardens screamed and cried, while others gritted their teeth against the onslaught.

Zevran was the only one not affected.

In consequence, he was the only one able to react in time when darkspawn came pouring out of a tunnel. He slipped into the shadows, disappearing as easily as if he was never there. The first three darkspawn never made it to the wardens. They were dead before they even hit the ground, their throats slit almost to the spine. It gave a few of the wardens near the front enough time to stagger to their feet and enter into the fray. Some of the older wardens—Beshan included—were still in the voice's thrall, frozen into inaction by the compulsion to drop their weapons and seek out the one who spoke.

Fenris stumbled to his feet with the aid of his massive sword. He raised it in just enough time to block the attack of a darkspawn's sword. Steel rang against steel, and Fenris could smell the decay coming off the darkspawn in waves, the taint that corrupted even the very ground they walked on. Fenris' face twisted in a snarl and he dropped his weight, the darkspawn's sword sliding free and slamming to the ground. Fenris rolled away to the side and came up swinging, cleaving through the darkspawn's armor and shattering its shoulder bone to sever its arm.

An arrow zipped by his head, narrowly missing his ear. He turned in time to see a darkspawn archer loose another arrow. He wasn't quick enough and it punched through the Grey Warden tabard to entangle in his chainmail shirt. Ignoring the slight pain of the arrow tip just embedded in his skin, he pulled it free and charged after the archer, ducking the next arrow that came his way.

All around him, chaos had erupted. Spells from both sides lit up the cavern, and at any other time, it would have been beautiful the way the myriad colors flashed brightly against the stone, creating patterns on the rock. The compulsion was still there, but the will to live was stronger. If they did as the voice asked, they would all be slaughtered like docile sheep in the killing pens.

Some of them were.

It didn't escape Fenris' notice that Beshan had been one of the first to be cut down. He had dropped his weapon and stood inert with glazed eyes as his head was taken. All around him the older wardens were dying, passively allowing the darkspawn to kill them. In only moments, their numbers dipped a quarter less than what they had—and the darkspawn kept coming.

Fenris took a blow to his side that broke through the tight links of his armor and embedding metal into the wound. He almost lost his grip on his sword as he returned the favor, slashing at the darkspawn's hip until he hit bone. A healing wave washed over him, and for the barest of moments, he thought Anders had come. But it felt wrong, the pull on his brands foreign and unwelcome. He turned and saw Christopher with his back to a wall and wardens to his front. His hands and staff were raised as he sent healing spells into the crowd.

Fenris still hated him, but he had his uses.

They couldn't win this. The darkspawn had the advantage of numbers against weakened and unprepared wardens. Fenris stepped further into the Fade, his whole body shimmering with an incandescent light. Time seemed to slow as he moved quicker than the darkspawn could track around the battlefield, taking them down as he went.

And then everything stopped.

The compulsion vanished and the darkspawn lowered their weapons. No one gave the time to question it, taking the opportunity to slaughter the creatures where they stood, returning the favor. When the last one was down, Fenris stood panting among the dead-darkspawn and warden alike—drenched in blood. He snapped his wrist and flicked tainted blood off his sword as he glanced around.

All told their numbers where now down by half, and that counted those too wounded to continue on. Christopher was moving among them now, healing those that he could.

Oghren, of all people had been made head of the search party. When the dwarf wasn't drunk, he seemed to know a thing or two about darkspawn and leading a group. Velanna, Sigrun and Zevran were gathered around him as Christopher healed a gash on the dwarf's head. Fenris pulled out a piece of cloth from a pouch at his waist, and wiped down his sword before sheathing it and walking over to them.

"…just stopped," Velanna was saying, her eyes wide.

"Seems that way." Oghren waved Christopher off with an impatient huff. "I told ya I'm fine. Go do your healing thing on people that need it more." The young warden moved off and knelt down next to a woman who clutched blood tinged hands to her side.

"What changed?" Sigrun asked. "Something happened to make them stop like that. The voice in my head, it disappeared as well."

"Aedan?" Zevran was wiping at his face with a cloth he had wetted down from a water skin. Fenris fought more head on than the assassin, so what little blood Zevran had on his body was easily removed. Fenris would have to burn his clothes and scrub his skin raw to cleanse the gore saturating him.

"Maybe." Oghren grinned, showing them all the grizzly sight of blood stained teeth. "Cousland might have killed the Architect."

"My sister…" Velanna looked stricken.

Zevran handed Fenris his cloth and leaned over to whisper in his ear as he wiped off his face. "Her sister was tainted, but the Architect has her. She helps him on whatever he is currently working on. He did something to her. She is a ghoul, but she has her mind still."

Fenris was given no chance to reply when Sigrun spoke. "We should move on before they come back. I've seen what darkspawn do to people they capture. We all have."

"Yeah, but the warden is a man. Unless he plays the girl for you, elf. Then he might be in trouble." Oghren let out a whoosh of breath as Sigrun elbows him in the gut.

"Since you already smell so bad, I think they might take you instead." Sigrun snorted and laughed at the offended look on Oghren's face.

Fenris felt his heart clench painfully at their banter. Anders should be here, joining in with them. He knew they were just blowing off steam, but it hurt all the same. They were so sure Aedan was still alive, but not one word had been mentioned about Anders or his sister. Had they already given them up for dead?

Fenris was startled out of his thoughts when Zevran whispered in his ear. "If Aedan is alive, then Anders is as well. Aedan would not let one of his own die before him, not if he could help it." Fenris turned a startled look on the other elf. "Your face," he explained. "To those that know what to look for, you can be very expressive at times." He glanced down to where Fenris' finger swere tapping furiously on his thigh.

Growling softly in the back of his throat, he turned his back on Zevran and his too keen eyes, nodding towards the tunnel the darkspawn came out of. "We should stop wasting time."

Oghren hefted his axe. "Let's go. Anders' girlfriend is getting restless."

* * *

When the darkspawn stopped coming, Anders wasn't sure if it was real or a delusion created by his weakened state. He leaned heavily against a wall, his head rolling on his shoulder. He was almost finished. He could feel how his heart slowed in his chest, the organ shuddering to pump blood through his body. His breath rasped in and out lungs that couldn't ever seem to draw enough air in them.

Aedan wasn't in much better shape. He'd had to discard his breast plate when the second ogre came, caving the metal in and breaking a few ribs in the process. Blood dripped down his right side and back, his tunic slashed open to reveal angry, open wounds.

"Aedan…" Anders slid down the wall, his legs unable to support him anymore. "Why did they stop?" he turned his head to see the Architect and Corypheus having a heated argument. He couldn't make out what they said, but whatever it was, the Architect did not look nearly as pleased as Corypheus did.

"Don't know." Aedan was watching the argument avidly, his eyes narrowed. His voice was scratchy from all the screaming he had done in the heat of battle. "Remember when I said that we shouldn't run?"

"Yeah…"

"I've changed my mind. We need to go while they're distracted." Aedan had lost his shield and sword some time ago. He held a darkspawn sword in his hand, taking it from the body of the one that had shattered his own weapon. He backed up to where Anders was on the floor and held out his hand, his eyes on the chamber.

Anders had no sooner gotten to his feet when Corypheus called out to them, preventing any chance of them leaving without detection. "Are you leaving so soon?" Corypheus gestured with his arms wide. The darkspawn in the room parted, creating a path straight to him from the door.

"Why don't you come in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger. I was hoping to wrap this up with this chapter, but it had other ideas. *ducks*


	32. Chapter 32

"Now that is hideous." Only their core group of Fenris, the two dwarves, Velanna, Zevran and Christopher remained. A few of the wardens who could still fight where left with the wounded, while scouts went back to the keep to report and ask for reinforcements.

This was a much larger problem than just a simple rescue mission.

They had ventured deeper into the tunnels. Without a guide, they were left with what a few of them could recall from their last visit to this area. No darkspawn greeted them. There was nothing here, just new construction.

"Well, you would know hideous," Sigrun said softly, her voice lacking any heat. All of them craned their necks upwards, examining a half finished statue standing guard over a doorway. Stone dust littered the floor, the imprints of boots stamped into it.

"It is supposed to be Dumat, the Dragon of Silence. It is said he taught the first of the Tevinter mages the art of blood magic. He was also the first Archdemon." Fenris looked at the statue in disdain. "See how there is no mouth. That was not by accident, the upper half is complete." Fenris had thought when he left Kirkwall he had finally seen the last of Tevinter statuary of the Old Gods. It seemed no matter where he went the Imperium's stamp on the world was all around him.

But this was new.

"You did not tell me that this Architect has connections to Tevinter." It also seemed that he could not escape the magisters, not even in the depths of the Deep Roads. They needed to find Anders. There was a chance that Anders and Varania's disappearance had nothing to do with what was happening in the Deep roads. If that was the case, then Fenris was wasting time, when he should be looking elsewhere for the mage.

"We don't know." Velanna held out her hands helplessly. "I don't think the Architect even knows."

"Who's the Architect?" Christopher asked. As one they all turned towards him in surprise. It was easy to forget that Christopher was young and spent all of his time in the infirmary. This was his first time in the Deep Roads, and although he had acquitted himself well so far, he was still very much untried.

They each looked at each other before Sigrun sighed. "I'll do it. He might as well know what he's gotten himself into."

"I know what I'm in for. I wasn't conscripted," Christopher boasted. As they moved through the doorway, she fell back to talk to the young warden in a low voice.

"You don't. You _really_ don't." In a soft voice, she began to tell Christopher the basics of what he needed to know. It was difficult at times; there was information that newer wardens were not to know yet. It was background noise to Fenris who had taken the lead with Oghren.

There was no need for a guide now. They entered into a series of chambers and hallways. There was only one path, as if it was designed to funnel to a single point. Most of the chambers were empty, only a few adorned with tables and chairs. Fenris didn't like it. It was a vacancy that only waited to be filled. It was as if the Architect was building in anticipation of all the darkspawn that would occupy it.

Behind him, Fenris could hear the occasional gasp of astonishment from Christopher. He hadn't bothered Anders since Fenris had warned him away. Or at least, not that Fenris had seen. He was still in the infirmary every afternoon, but Christopher never did anything in his sight again, keeping his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he listened to Anders' newest lesson.

It was in those instances, that Fenris could see the mage that Anders could have become. He was a natural teacher, his sense of humor and easy going manner had his students spell bound. He could have risen to First Enchanter, and been a gentling influence on whatever circle was lucky enough to have him.

At least, that was Fenris' very biased opinion.

Fenris decided he couldn't blame him for wanting Anders. When Fenris had first seen the mage, he had been struck by his rakish looks and the infectious grin on his face. He'd always wanted Anders-he could admit that to himself now. Looking back, he had been appalled that Anders was a mage, and used that as an excuse to prevent himself from feeling anything more than revulsion. But his eyes had seemed to stray to Anders of their own volition, and he found himself wondering inane things, like if the hair on the rest of his body was as golden as the hair on his head, or like the darker shadowing on his jaw. The single instance Fenris had taken another into his bed in Kirkwall, images of Anders had flashed in his head as he was cock deep in his partner.

That had not ended well.

He had been foolish to fight himself for as long as he had-foolish and blinded by his own bitterness. He hadn't fought pass his own prejudices, all of the Gallows, the taint and Danarius to lose Anders now. If the Architect did not have him, then there was nothing more keeping Fenris with the wardens. He would leave the moment Aedan was rescued, if Anders was not with him. He would search for Anders and to the Void with anyone who hindered him.

He stopped when Oghren did, the dwarf uttering an oath that would have done Isabela proud. Behind him, he heard the others do the same. "Feel that?" Oghren asked.

Fenris looked back to see Velanna and Sigrun nod. The elf closed his eyes and quieted his mind to feel what the others did. His eyes snapped open and he growled under his breath. "Straight ahead."

"Let me." Zevran pushed passed them his daggers clenched in his hands. He moved on silent feet and disappeared into the hallway. He was gone for only a moment, before he came darting back into the chamber.

"They're here, and they're in trouble."

* * *

Anders had his arm slung over Aedan's shoulder and the larger man half carried, half dragged the mage into the room. On either side of them snarling darkspawn brandished fang and sword, hissing through their teeth. As the two men passed, they closed ranks behind them, cutting off any avenue of escape. Anders gagged from the smell. Too many darkspawn in one enclosed space was not conducive to the air around them. Now he knew why the chambers they had been in previously had not had the stench that darkspawn carried with them. They had all gathered here in this one room.

Aedan stopped at the foot at the dais, and looked for the entire world like he wasn't holding up a half dead mage and wasn't close to that state himself. Instead, he raised his chin and straightened his spine, the torchlight catching the bruises that mottled his face and arms. "If you had wanted to talk you could have saved us the trouble and just done that from the start."

"But then I would not have known if you were worthy or not. You've shown a prowess that I have only seen twice in my lifetime." Corypheus' voice echoed in the chamber and Anders shuddered to hear it.

"Worthy?"

"Yes. I do not like this body that I currently inhabit. It is too limited. When the Hawke destroyed my original, I had very little choice as to where I could flee." Next to him, the Architect was watching the exchange avidly.

"A hawk?" Aedan's voice held the same note of incredulity that Anders was feeling. Corypheus was mad, he made no sense. Mad and very powerful if he could take control of so many darkspawn in so little time.

But the assertion of madness was swept away when Corypheus deign to explain himself. "A mage named Hawke came to my prison when I was about to finally be free and strengthened my bonds with his blood. It took my disciples many years to find a descendent to free me."

Anders sucked in a pained breath. "Marian… Aedan, he means Marian," he whispered furiously. His eyes blazed as he turned on Corypheus.

"What did you do to her?" Raising his voice caused his lungs to go into spasms and he bent almost double as a coughing fit wracked his body.

"Her?" Corypheus laughed. "It was not the female. It was the son that came to me. He brought an elven sorceress and a female warrior with him. They took advantage of my state and I was forced to flee my body."

Carver… It was Carver.

Anders opened his mouth, but Aedan spoke first. "Flee your body… You claim to be immortal?"

"I don't claim it. I am." He swept his arms wide, encompassing the whole room. "I am Corypheus, one of those that entered the Golden City and came out with knowledge that your minds could never comprehend. The Lord of Silence, Dumat, has whispered into my ear, and his secrets have been imparted unto me.

"I brought you here for I am in need of a man of strong will." His lips turned up in a cunning grin. "The one who calls himself the Architect insisted that you were such a man. You have been tested in battle and blood, but I find that I no longer need you for my original purpose." He dropped his arms and pointed at Aedan, his eyes alight with malevolence.

"Why make another Key when there is already one heading this way? I have felt its touch close by. I will take your body instead."

* * *

There was no time to wait. No time for plans or tactics. In a move that indicated too much time spent around Aedan, they decided to burst into the room, their weapons drawn. But there was no need. The darkspawn parted when they entered, clearing a path for them to a dais in the center.

Aedan had a sword in his hands raised high in a killing strike above the neck of what looked to be a male human almost turned ghoul. The ghoul had a triumphant grin on his face… and Anders' throat in his hands.

"Strike me down and end his suffering," the ghoul taunted. "Choose. Kill me and I will take your body, or allow him to die and save yourself."

"Anders!"With a thought, Fenris stepped partially into the Fade and rushed the dais, his sword swung back. He felt more than heard the others hurrying to catch up, calling his name in warning.

Anders rolled his terrified eyes towards Fenris. His vision was filled with dancing spots and he struggled to remain conscious. "Stop…" he croaked. "Stop him…" As much as he wanted to see Fenris, he wished that the elf had not found them. If what Corypheus said was true, then Fenris had just walked right into the one place in all of Thedas where he should not be. He had to stop Fenris before he reached them and killed Corypheus.

Heedless of the great sword in Fenris' hands, Aedan dropped his own and dove off the dais towards the elf. Fenris stopped himself just in time, his weapon slipping from his hands to clatter to the ground as Aedan's greater weight slammed into him. Air whooshed out of his lungs from the impact, and Aedan rolled taking the brunt of the landing on the unforgiving stone floor. The others scrambled for them, their hands lifting Fenris away and pulling them both to their feet.

"Corypheus… We can't kill him." Bent over, his hands on his knees, Aedan panted, his eyes boring into Corypheus. "It's like the Archdemon. It will just take over the nearest warden or darkspawn." He hissed in a pained breath as he felt gentle hands on his back, gingerly touching his wounds. The last voice he had expected to hear drifted in his ears.

"What have they done to you, my warden?"

Aedan straightened and whirled around, his eyes landing on Zevran. "What the fuck? Why are you here?"

Zevran's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "If you have to ask that, then I am not doing my job very well."

On the dais, Corypheus was laughing. The sound grated on Fenris, clawing over his skin. "You cannot kill me, but you may yet be given a chance to live. Give me the Key and I will let you all go." Next to him, the Architect remained a silent observer. Corypheus shook Anders like a rag doll and tossed him from the dais.

For someone who was so battered, Aedan was the one to catch Anders, falling once more to the ground. Fenris dropped to his knees and pulled Anders from Aedan's body, cradling the mage in his lap. Anders' skin was grey, and an obscene ring of deep bruising bloomed around his throat. His breath rasped in his lungs, rattling so loud that Fenris could hear it. Dark circles shadowed eyes that were barely opened.

Feral eyes turned on Aedan, and Fenris' face was twisted in rage. "Why did you stop me? Look at what he has done!" He jerked when Anders touched his face with a weak hand and turned him back.

"Can't kill him… He won't die. It was a trap…Architect…"

For the first time, the Architect spoke. "I am sorry, Aedan. I wanted to see if his assertions were true."

"Sorry?" Aedan wobbled on his feet, held up by Velanna and Zevran. "You're sorry? You said you wanted to free your kind, and yet you would help him?" He shook his head, anger coloring his words. "If I can't kill him, I will at least take your head. I'll mount it on the front gates of the keep and let it rot like it should have a long time ago."

"Aedan," Sigrun whispered. "What do we do? If we can't kill him…"

"I know!" Aedan sucked in a breath through his teeth, tempering his voice. "I know. I can't give him Fenris, though." It was then that Anders knew that Aedan had already figured out what Fenris could do. He had been with them in the Fade; he had been at the Three Corners with Fenris and heard all the same things the elf had.

He knew-and he hadn't said a word.

"Give me the Key and this will all go away." Corypheus' hungry eyes moved over Fenris. "I did not think to see another Key made. The one who did this must be very powerful. Give him to me."

"Just give him what he wants!" Christopher stood trembling, his eyes wild with fear. "If we can't kill him…"

"No!" Aedan turned the full force of his displeasure on the young healer. "We are wardens. We don't give up one of our own."

"But you do." Corypheus took a step down from the dais. The darkspawn nearest to him backed away, their heads bowed. "You give one up whenever an Old God rises. Curious, that you should live when so many of your own fell."

The voice was back in their minds, but now that they knew the source it seemed all the more repulsive. _Dumat gave me the secret of everlasting life. I will not die by going into a lesser being the way the Old Gods do. Give me the Key, or you shall suffer a thousand deaths._

Anders gave a weak, self deprecating laugh."Only… a thousand? Sounds… easy enough…"

And that's when Fenris knew.

As he looked down at his lover—at the way he could still joke-he knew he couldn't let Anders die. None of the wardens could kill Corypheus. He would just move on, inhabiting one of them or the many darkspawn in the room. A peace settled over Fenris as an idea took root. There was no other way. They were being given impossible choices. Die, or hand Fenris over and die still in the oncoming storm.

But Fenris knew of a third option that Corypheus-for all his cunning-did not see.

He touched Anders' cheek, brushing away the grim that had settled in the stubble along his jaw. He leaned down, curling his body over that of the mage. Breath hot in Anders' ear, he whispered softly, Fenris' lips brushing over his skin. "I love you. You have given me far more than I had ever thought possible. I'm a better person for having met you. You make me smile despite myself. The foolish things you say… I find myself missing them when you aren't there.

"I like that your mine. I like that the looks you give me are mine. The soft touches, the way your voice sounds when you're under me. I…" Fenris faltered. There were so many things he wanted to say to Anders. When the mage turned his startled eyes on Fenris, the elf kissed him.

Anders began to shake and he pulled away from the kiss and all of the meaning behind it. This was a Fenris that he so rarely got to see, and he was hearing words that Fenris would normally try to communicate through a desperate kiss, or a soft touch. A sense of doom settled over him, and his frantic hands pulled Fenris to him. "Don't—"

"I won't let you die. I can stop this, but I need you to be strong for me." Fenris could feel tears pricking the backs of his eyes and he blinked rapidly. He could not remember the last time he had cried. A tear fell, landing on Anders' cheek, and cleansing a small spot amidst the dirt. "If I give him what he wants, then I will _be in the Fade_."He stressed the last three words and knew Anders understood when horror filled his eyes.

Panic built in Anders and choked him more surely than Corypheus had, as it dawned on him just what Fenris meant. "Don't," he pleaded. "Don't do this."

The panic rose as Fenris turned towards Aedan."I'll go. I'll go into the Fade and take him with me. It's the only way."

"No. I'm not letting you do this," he snapped back. Christopher was bent over Aedan, his hands glowing with healing magic.

"You must. It is only _Justice_." Fenris saw it the moment Aedan and Zevran understood what he meant. The Warden-Commander's face settled into grim lines, his mouth twisting as he fought against the logic of what Fenris was saying.

Zevran lightly touched Aedan's shoulder, and his dour features settled into sorrow. "If you do this…" he began.

"If I do this then you will be let go. My sister-"

'"Is alive. Don't worry. I will take care of her," Aedan promised him.

Fenris felt Anders' hands clawing at him, dragging him down and forcing Fenris to face him. "No! No, no, no. You can't do this. You can't, not alone. I'll go with you. We can go together." Anders' voice came out in a hurried rush. "Please," he sobbed. "Don't leave me."

Fenris touched his wrist, where under his gauntlet lay a thin piece of string. "I won't be alone. I never was, but I was foolish enough not to see it." Anders began to cry great, wracking sobs, his whole body shuddering with the force of it. He screamed Fenris' name as the elf pried his hands off his shoulders. He thrashed wildly when Aedan took his spot, he and Zevran pinning Anders down while the mage's hands flung out towards his lover, reaching for him.

"Don't let him do this, Aedan. Please don't let him. Please!"

Sigrun, Velanna and Christopher looked horrified as Fenris walked to the dais, ignoring Anders' cries. He paused, and looked over his shoulder at Aedan. "Don't let him run. Not anymore." He turned back when Aedan gave him a short, determined nod of his head.

Corypheus smiled when Fenris reached him and held out his hand. "You have made the right choice."

Taking his cold fingers in his own, Fenris gave him an answering smile of his own. "I know." His brands flared to life and Fenris stepped further into the Fade than ever before. He pushed at boundaries that he had only ever felt hinted at. As the light grew brighter, he could hear Anders screaming in the distance, tearing at his heart. A tear slipped down his face and he gripped Corypheus' hand tighter.

And then they were gone.


	33. Chapter 33

The Fade was vastly different when you were there in your physical body. The surealness of the landscape was magnified, and everything-from the colors, to the air you breathed-felt wrong. Fenris dropped to his hands and knees, his arms trembling to keep his body from collapsing to the ground. It felt like his very being was threatening to fly apart, and was only held together by his will alone. Maybe that's why a strong willed person was needed. Not just to survive the ritual, but to make sure they would not shatter when they entered the Fade.

As always, the Black City could be seen in the distance. It was the eternal center of the Fade, seen from wherever you were. All roads and no roads led to the Black City, its twisting spires punching into the sky. The bluff they stood upon looked like the one Fenris had been on before. But as the Fade was mutable, it was only his imaginings that made it so. He pushed himself to his feet and saw Corypheus at the edge of the bluff, staring at the Black City.

"After all these years, I have finally returned." He gestured at the fortress before them. "The City was never golden. It was a lie, a trick to lure the unsuspecting. But now I have returned, I will take the power promised to me." He glanced at Fenris over his shoulder. "Open the door."

He could leave him here, Fenris thought. He could return, leaving Corypheus in the Fade. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew he couldn't. He had to make sure he was dead. The earth under his feet trembled, and he knew he was out of time.

Corypheus felt it too, and he looked around, his eyes showing the first signs of misgiving. "What—"

The earth exploded, showering dirt that dissipated in the air. Rising out of the ground, and glowing so brilliantly that Fenris had to shield his eyes was Justice. He strode towards them, his feet trailing flames in his wake. Blue fire raced along his body and over the sword he brandished. He was larger than Fenris had ever seen before, a massive spirit of pure energy and power.

"You were not to return. My warning has gone unheeded." Even with the helmet covering his face, Fenris could still feel the full force of his gaze. "And you have brought one of the cursed ones with you."

Corypheus faltered and quailed when Justice turned towards him. "No! I was assured that you were no longer in the Fade."

"I have only recently resumed my post. It was long thought that one of your kind might return. Hope had thought otherwise—as is her want-but I was never convinced." He advanced on Corypheus and the mage raised his hands, shouting in Arcanum. No spells came to him, and he looked on his powerless hands in horror.

"You are nothing here," Justice informed him. "For all your knowledge, did it not occur to you to inhabit a body that could wield the power you grasp for?" Corypheus' mouth opened and closed in dawning terror as Justice lifted his blade. In one stroke, the spirit sliced at his neck, sending his head flying off the bluff and into the abyss. But as his body fell lifeless to the ground, Corypheus still stood. His soul wavered in the unreal light of the Fade, a malevolent grin on his face.

"You cannot kill me so easily." He turned his eyes on Fenris. "You knew he was here, this is why you capitulated so easily. I will take your body and the power it holds." He flew at Fenris and the elf stumbled backwards his arms raised to ward off the oncoming ghost. The true visage of Corypheus was terrible to look at. His skin was stretched tight, pulled at awkward and painful looking angles.

Justice stepped between Fenris and Corypheus and snagged him with a heavily gauntleted fist. He looked like a toy in Justice's hand, so insignificant and tiny. "No. For too long you have escaped justice for the horrors you have unleashed upon the world." He squeezed his fist and Corypheus screamed in agony. "You will feel the pain of the lives that have been lost because of your actions." Thrashing his head, Corypheus' screams became a symphony. Voices that were not his own overlaid his cries, rising to a chorus that had Fenris covering his ears in an attempt to block the sound. Corypheus' head whipped back and forth, moving faster and faster until it was just a blur of motion. As the screams rose into a crescendo, the sound abruptly stopped, Corypheus' soul flying apart, shattering into nothingness.

The silence was deafening after so much chaos. Fenris swallowed heavily as he stared at Justice's massive back. For a moment, neither of them said a word. Around them, no wind blew. There was no sound of birds, no rustling of grass or trees. The Fade had stopped-even the ethereal mist overhead had ceased moving. Justice turned, and Fenris had to plant his feet in the ground to stop himself from taking a step back.

"You were warned. Why did you return?"

"Does it matter?" Fenris knew he was going to die. He had known the second he had decided to bring Corypheus here. He tore at the straps of his gauntlets with his teeth, and let his armor fall to the ground. He touched the string on his wrist and pressed his lips to it, closing his eyes. He wondered if he would see Anders again, or if Justice would tear him into nothingness.

If Hope resided nearby and could hear him, he sent a wish her way that he would one day meet with Anders again. Next time there would be nothing coloring his perceptions of the man. Next time he would not take for granted Anders' presence. He would let Anders hold his hand in front of others, and call him all the pet names he wanted. He would make sure that no one like the mage's father would ever hurt him again. Next time, he wished that they would meet in a place far from the horrors of the waking world, where they both could be free and untainted from their pasts.

"I'm ready." Fenris opened his eyes and stared at that silly piece of string, that physical part of Anders that never left him. He wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.

Fenris looked up with startled eyes when he heard Justice's voice instead of feeling his sword cleave his head from his body. '"It does matter. Why did you return?" Justice was smaller now, more at the height of Fenris than the giant he had been.

So Fenris told him. He told him about Corypheus and the Architect and the trap they had laid out. He told him about how the only way he had seen out was to bring him into the Fade, and allow Justice to deal with the both of them. He spoke of Anders, and how the mage had pleaded with him to stay, screaming as if Fenris had his hand on his heart and was ripping the organ free.

That led to Fenris telling him more, the words tumbling out of his mouth of their own volition. He spoke of Anders and how the mage was thriving in the keep. He told him about the progress he was making in the infirmary, and that Aedan had promised to draft a letter to King Alistair to request a meeting. He said it all with a smile on his face and in his eyes, his barriers gone now with death so imminent. All the while his thumb rubbed circles over the string.

When he was finished, when there was no more to tell, Fenris looked down at his wrist once more. "I'm ready now."

Justice was silent, and then placed a hand on Fenris' chest. "No. This is not justice." He pushed and instead of hitting the ground, Fenris kept falling, the world dissolving around him.

"For all that I did to Anders, you being with him is justice."

And then he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! The sequel has already been planned out, so there will be a short break of a few day between stories. Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed this!


	34. Chapter 34

Anders' fingers drifted through Pounce's fur as they both lay on the mage's bed. He let the rumbling of the cat's purr vibrate over his chest in contentment. If only he could achieve the same state so easily. In what had become a ritual with him, he turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of leather and steel-underlined with Fenris' scent-wafted up from the pillow. He felt the familiar hollowness open up inside him, threatening to drag him down into a pit of despair. Anders had no more tears left to cry, and now he felt almost nothing at all.

Fenris had been dead for a month. As each week, each day, each hour passed, Anders could feel himself slip away. He never left his room unless it was to assume his duties in the infirmary. He ate only rarely, when his body's demand for food became too great.

When the darkspawn had scattered at the Architect's behest, Anders had known that Fenris had been successful. Aedan had run to the dais then, and grabbed the darkspawn by his robes, a sword to his throat. The argument they had then had been one sided, with Aedan threatening everything from dismemberment to incineration for what the Architect had done.

He had been willing to hand Aedan over to Corypheus, just to see what would happen. Aedan couldn't countenance it. He had always known that the Architect would betray the wardens one day, but knowing and seeing where two different things. The Architect had let Aedan vent his spleen, watching with impassive eyes as the Warden-Commander screamed in his face, disgust and rage lacing every word.

But Aedan was Aedan, and after all these years, the Architect knew him well. With a few well chosen words, he had Aedan releasing him. When Anders had seen that he had lost it. He had no magic left and he was weak, but he still managed to find the strength to snatch a dagger from Sigrun's side and rush at the fallen darkspawn, the blade raised and his face twisted in rage. Zevran had tackled him to the ground, and Anders had narrowly missed impaling himself. He had screamed at Aedan, calling for the Architect's head as he had clawed at the ground, tearing his fingernails in the process.

He would kill Zevran for stopping him. He would kill Aedan for letting Fenris go. He would kill the Architect for trapping them in that impossible situation. He no longer cared about oaths, or his outlandish goal of seeing the mages of Thedas have a better life. It meant nothing to him anymore. What good were oaths when the one you swore them to would betray your trust in him?

For a second time.

Anders had accused Aedan of not even wanting to look for a better way, only doing just enough and nothing more. He had jumped too quickly on Fenris' plan. He had not tried hard enough to talk the elf out of it. Contrary to the lip service Aedan paid, the Warden-Commander used people to further his own goals. Anders and his wishes had meant nothing to Aedan so many years ago. Why else would he have let a templar into the keep? What Anders had done with Justice, had been laid at Aedan's door as well.

Behind him, he could hear Sigrun crying and Velanna's shocked gasps. They had only incensed him further. They had stood by and done nothing, letting Fenris save them. Fenris had been nothing to them as well, except a means to save their own lives. He told them as much, snarling at them as he craned his neck back to give them a baleful glare. His eyes had lit upon Zevran, the elf's hands pressing his shoulders to the ground. He had threatened Zevran then, telling Aedan that one day he would know the pain of Anders' loss.

It hadn't been like him to lash out at his friends like this. But his pain had been too great, his sorrow too fresh. It felt like he had been flayed alive and each one of his nerves was exposed. Aedan had given Zevran a short nod and the assassin made sure that Anders could not spill his vitriol on anyone else. With a few strategic pinches to his neck, darkness swamped his vision and he fell unconscious, Aedan's face-naked and full of sorrow-the last thing he saw.

* * *

He had woken up tied to his own bed. His body had been cleansed and fresh bandages put on his wounds. Varric sat next to him on a chair, and had started when he saw Anders was awake.

For two weeks, Anders had someone in his room with him. He was allowed nowhere outside of his quarters except to bath, which he only did when he couldn't stand his own stench anymore. Food was brought to him, and plates barely touched were taken away. For the first three days, Anders had slipped in and out of consciousness. He had taxed his body beyond what it should have been able to do, taken too much of himself to heal Aedan. It had also been easier. In his dreams he searched for Fenris, his heart unwilling to believe that the elf was gone.

He spoke to no one, until the day-a week and a half after Fenris had disappeared-that Varric had told them they were going to hold a ceremony for those that had died in the Deep Roads. If a warden's body was retrievable, then they were burned and a marker was placed in a field just outside the keep's walls. Anders had rolled over in his bed and faced the wall as Varric spoke. He did not want to hear the words coming out of the dwarf's mouth, but he knew they were coming all the same.

"Since Brood—" Varric had stopped himself. "Since Fenris was integral in saving us all, Cousland has commissioned a marble stone in his honor. You should go, Blondie. It might help."

Anders had turned then, facing Varric, his face full of incredulity. "Help? Will it bring him back to me? Or do you think I should just forget so easily?" He had been naked under his blanket and as he sat up it fell to pool around his waist. "Get out," he had hissed.

Varric had only shaken his head. "Can't do that, Blondie. We can't leave you alone."

"Why? Because Fenris told Aedan to make sure I didn't run?"

"No," Varric had sighed. "Because leaving you alone is the last thing you need right now."

Anders had buried his face in his hands. He couldn't stand the way they looked at him, as if he was so fragile that the slightest thing would shatter him, sending pieces of himself scattering to the floor-never mind that it was true. He hadn't felt like this when Karl had died—the only lover of his other than Fenris that had let get so close.

" _And you don't think I am going to leave you, so now you want to know?"_ Anders had sobbed as Fenris' words echoed in his ears, the sound muffled by his palms. He _had_ thought that. Foolishly—naively-he had thought that. He should have known better. Wardens were not long lived. Someday he and Fenris would have to part. There would be no quiet cottage to see them into their dotage—not for them.

Varric had let Anders cry, and only when his sobs quieted down to small hiccups, did the dwarf pat him gently on the shoulder.

* * *

He had gone to the ceremony. He had known if he didn't, then he would never forgive himself. He had kept away from the crowd gathered outside of the keep and spoke to no one. He had worn one of Fenris' tunics, needing a reminder of his lover close by while the wardens gave up on him.

That was how Anders saw it.

They were giving up.

There was no body to burn, no corpse to see. Anders' mind couldn't grasp Fenris' death without it. It all seemed so unreal, as if the elf was away and the others had decided he was never coming back. But as each day went by, Anders was beginning to believe it himself.

He had resumed his duties in the infirmary, throwing himself into his work. He was up at dawn, and did not leave until well pass dusk and the keep was quiet. There were injured wardens to tend to, and Aedan's own wounds had turned putrid. That had been the hardest, healing Aedan and helping his body fight off infection and fever from poorly healed injuries. Darkspawn weapons were not clean. All manner of things could get into a wound inflicted by one of their swords. As good as Christopher was, the young warden had not done as he should have to make sure that didn't happen, sealing things inside when he had knitted Aedan's flesh together.

And Christopher…

He was always there. No matter where Anders turned the other healer was next to him, offering him a charming smile and a helping hand. It angered Anders, and he was short and abrupt with him. His lessons in the infirmary suffered for it. He no longer smiled, and had no patience for those that did not pay attention. He had given Christopher a verbal tongue lashing for treating Aedan so poorly, even as he knew how hypocritical his words were.

Aedan did not mention the things Anders had said to him, and acted as if it did not happen. For that Anders was grateful. If Aedan had to see him, Anders made sure it was alone and without Zevran. He couldn't stand the sight of the two of them together. It reminded him of too much—of what he had lost.

Varric had left three weeks after Fenris had died, and Anders was saddened to see him go. The dwarf had tried his best, but when he talked about Sigrun, his voice would become soft and wistful. In a fit of pique, Anders had reminded him that not only was she a warden, but part of the Legion of the Dead. If he could get around one, he could not get around the other. Varric had looked so stricken, that Anders had immediately felt remorse and apologized. Even though Varric said he had forgiven him, he still left the next day to return to Kirkwall. Anders couldn't help but think it was his fault.

"Another one lost, Pounce. I seem to be very good at it driving people away." Pounce gave him a look, that seemed to say, _Not me, I am made of sterner stuff._

Anders closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He did as he was supposed to. He walked, and talked, but he felt like a puppet that was going through the motions, and someone else was pulling the strings. He was trying to do as Fenris asked; he was trying to be strong. But at times, he didn't know if it was worth it. He knew what he would say to someone if it were another person in his place. He would tell them to hold on to their memories, but that they should be happy and not live a half life.

Those sentiments seemed so trite.

But he knew it would be what Fenris would have wanted. Fenris never wanted to see Anders Tranquil, and what he was now was just a ceremony and a lyrium brand away from being just that. Fenris hadn't wanted that for him. He had shown it when he asked Anders to be strong, and when he asked Aedan to make sure Anders didn't run.

But, oh how it hurt.

So Anders chose to feel nothing at all.

He rolled over and blew out the candle at his bedside, dislodging Pounce in the process. He closed his eyes, pressing his face once more into Fenris' pillow. How long until it no longer smelled like him? Or would every whiff of steel and leather on the breeze remind Anders of him?

For the first time in a very long while, Anders thought of his mother. When he had first entered the circle, the smell of baking bread and fresh snow on the ground had reminded him of her. He had cried into the pillow she had given him, the material stuffed in his mouth to muffle the noise. He wouldn't give the templars the satisfaction of hearing him. He hadn't been back to the Anderfels since, and he'd had many opportunities to do so. One could never go back. Sometimes, it was best to keep moving forward and leave painful memories behind, carrying nothing but the good with you.

He kept forgetting that lesson.

But it was easier said than done. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he had never been back because he didn't think he could stand it if his mother had forgotten about him. What if his childhood memories were nothing but the imaginings of a scared little boy?

He hated this. He hated being this way. Fenris' death had dredged up things he didn't like thinking about. Things he had thought he had finally put behind him. Because although he could never go back, that didn't mean a part of him wasn't still there. The way a part of Fenris would always be with Anders.

Pounce's low purr accompanied Anders' slow and even breathing. Before he slipped off into sleep, his final thoughts were of his mother and Fenris, accompanied by the smell of fresh snow.

* * *

Anders woke up to the feeling of lips on his neck and a warm body at his back. Between the sleeping and waking world, he murmured a pleased sigh, and arched himself into hands that quested over his chest. Teeth scraped over his shoulder, and a delicious shiver sent goose bumps down his body. A hard cock was pressed insistently into his backside, and Anders could feel his own throbbing as his body awoke before his mind did.

He was urged onto his back and Anders reached down to tangle his fingers in long, silky hair. The strands slid along his chest, caressing him softly. It was a wonderful dream, one he knew he would lose when he woke fully, grasping as it slipped from his fingers and disappeared like smoke. He sighed Fenris' name, and moaned when talented lips and tongue lashed at his nipples, sending them into hard points. Teeth scraped over him once more before biting down—hard.

Anders' eyes shot open at the sharp pain and he looked down. Green eyes that he never thought he would see again stared back at him through a fall of long, tangled white hair. "I've finally snapped," Anders said to the apparition. "I've gone insane."

Fenris' face twisted into a scowl that Anders knew so well he felt his heart do a flip. "Finally snapped? I think you've passed that a long time ago, mage."

He pushed Fenris off of him and the elf went easily. Anders sat up and scooted back on the bed until his back hit the headboard, stopping his retreat. "You're not real. My Fenris is dead."

Sighing, Fenris sat back and pushed his hair off his face in irritation. "I assure you I am very real." He reached out for Anders and the mage moved out of the way, falling off the edge of the bed. Anders scrambled to his feet and grabbed his robes from the floor. With one eye on Fenris, he slipped them on.

"No. No, you're not." Fenris didn't have that hair. That wonderful hair that Anders had begged the elf once to grow out for him. But he wanted to believe, he wanted to believe so badly. He inched his way to the door as he kept Fenris in his line of sight. "You're a demon come to tempt me with something I want." He reached behind him and wrenched the door open. "If I didn't give in the day he died, then I won't give in now." He turned and ran out into the hall, Fenris calling out after him.

He didn't know where else to go but to Aedan. His bare feet slapped on the stone floor as he ran. It was just before dawn, so Aedan should be up by now. If not, then Anders was going to have to make him get up. He just hoped Zevran and Aedan weren't in the middle of something. Not that he wasn't curious. With their vague references—okay, not so vague—Anders got the impression their bedroom antics were pretty lively. Okay, good, there we go. Panicking and thinking of people's sex lives. Why was he returning to normal now when he had a demon in his room? Why couldn't it happen when people spoke to him, instead of when danger was lurking?

He didn't stop to knock on Aedan's door. Instead he threw it open and burst into the room with no preamble. Aedan had half risen out of his seat, when he saw it was Anders his body visibly relaxed and he sat back down. Anders halted in front of Aedan's desk and slapped his palms flat on the wood. His chest heaved as he panted and tried to catch his breath.

"Demon… my room… need help…"

Aedan blinked at him before his eyebrows drew down sharply and he rose. "Zev!" he called out to the closed door to the right side of the room. "We've got a bit of a pest problem in Anders' room." He walked over to where his weapons were displayed on a rack and pulled a sword free.

The door opened and Zevran came waltzing out, his mouth opening in a yawn. "So early, my warden? I—" He took a step back, his eyes widening as he cursed in Antivian. Anders turned slowly, already knowing what he was going to see as Aedan lifted his sword.

Fenris stood in the doorway. He had pulled on fresh clothing, his standard black leggings and tunic. He looked out of breath, and Anders knew he had given chase. He held up his hands to show he was unarmed and Anders gave a mental wince. The demon had even gotten the lyrium lines in his palms down. "Wait…" he started.

Aedan pointed his sword at Fenris, his lips curling. "Who are you?"

Green eyes tracked Zevran as the assassin moved around the room. "Why do you insist I am not who I say I am?" Fenris said carefully.

"Because the visage you are currently wearing belonged to someone who died a month ago," Aedan answered. "As a demon, you are a very poor one. Although I'll give you points for gall. Your hair is wrong though, so some points will have to come off for that."

Fenris growled and grabbed hanks of his hair with both of his fists. "I came back like this." He pulled. "This was not my idea. Do you think I would purposefully make myself look so foolish?"

Anders' eyebrows shot up and he felt a small spark of hope flare in his chest. The heart that he had thought that Fenris had taken with him began to beat rapidly in his chest. "Aedan," he whispered.

"Don't, Anders. He's just trying to fool you. It's how they work, you know that." Aedan skirted around his desk and came to a stop next to Anders.

Fenris looked startled and his hands went lax at his sides. "A month? I've been gone a month?" His foot started to tap on the floor, and Anders felt that small spark catch and turn into a flame. A tear slipped down his cheek and he wiped at it furiously.

"A month, love. It's been that long. We thought you were dead." Anders covered his mouth with his hand to prevent the sob that welled up from escaping.

"No, I—" Fenris took a step forward and reached out for Anders, but Zevran stepped into his path, blocking the way. Fenris' head dropped down, his shoulder length hair falling like a curtain over his face. He glared out at the assassin through dark lashes. "Get out of my way. I don't want to have to hurt you again."

Zevran's lips quirked into a deadly smile. "I would like to see you try. I'm not about to give up our new playmate to a demon. Aedan loves the electricity trick he can do."

Fenris let out a cry of rage and his arms shimmered. He moved quicker than the other elf, his hand in his chest before Anders could cry out a word of warning. Fenris leaned in close, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Tell me you're lying and I will let you live."

A sword point grazed his throat and Fenris flicked his eyes to the side to see Aedan, his face pulled into grim lines. "Do it and I'll take your head."

"Happy now, Zev?" Aedan asked him.

"Yes. But I confess… I need to stop… provoking him. I very much like… my heart where it is… yes?" Zevran had his hands around Fenris' forearm, as if that could stop him from pulling his hand free, taking his heart with it. He let go when he felt Fenris release his heart and pull his hand back. Zevran collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching his chest.

The second Zevran was free Aedan swung a fist towards Fenris. It caught the elf in the jaw, staggering him backwards. "You do that again and I'll make sure that you stay dead this time," Aedan warned.

Anders rushed over to Fenris and pulled him into his arms. His hands roamed over the elf's body, and when he reached his jaw, he sent a trickle of healing magic through it. Fenris bit off a moan, and Anders let out a half sob, half laugh to hear it. "I never thought I would see you again." He brushed Fenris' hair from his face.

Fenris gave him a smile, a genuine smile from the heart. He touched Anders' cheek, heedless of the audience they had. "I thought the same. I should have died. Justice he—" he was cut off when Anders crushed his mouth to Fenris' in a devouring kiss. He kissed the elf like it was the first time and the last time. Anders' kiss was full of joy and sorrow, and Fenris' tasted of regret at Anders' pain.

Aedan cleared his throat. "If you're done, I think Fenris has some explaining to do." Fenris was the first to break away, suddenly all too aware that they were being watched. A flush crept up his throat and reached the tips of his ears. He made to step back, but hesitated. Instead, he laced his fingers through Anders' and turned towards his commander. He wasn't going to let his embarrassment stop him from touching Anders whenever he wanted. If others chose to see it as a weakness then so be it. He had almost lost Anders, and wasn't going to take this for granted ever again.

"Where do I start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! When I started I had no idea it would be so long, but the boys decided they wanted to take their time.Thanks to everyone that has read and have encouraged me. The sequel will be taking place in the Anderfels, as a hint. It will start in a few days, so stay tuned!


End file.
